


Without Complexities or Pride

by abysmal_seraph (absymal_seraph)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), The Incredible Hulk (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dom/Sub, Dom/sub, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-07
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 14:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absymal_seraph/pseuds/abysmal_seraph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers Initiative didn't make Steve's life in the 21st century less complicated, but it certainly made things more interesting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda because I'm a horribly predictable romantic.
> 
> Thanks to [Mildly_Neurotic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Neurotic) for peeking over my shoulder the entire time I was writing this, prodding me, and betaing. And to [ladybexodus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybexodus) for also betaing this despite me bugging her at inappropriate times.
> 
> **Glossary**
> 
>  **Dominant:** Dominant tendencies. Traditionally believed to be only male.
> 
>  **Submissive:** Submissive tendencies. Traditionally believed to be only female or 'weak' male.
> 
>  **Switch:** Possessing both Dominant and Submissive tendencies. Existence acknowledged only in the last forty years.
> 
>  **Adynamic:** Possessing neither Dominant or Submissive tendencies nor an inherent drive/need to participate in D/s culture. Existence acknowledged only in the last twenty years.

When Steve had walked out of the gym with Fury’s eyes on his back and the knowledge that the Tesseract was still out there, he had expected the day would end with all hell breaking loose. The worst had yet to happen by the time Steve was on board the helicarrier handing over the ten bucks Fury won off him, but there was still plenty of daylight left.

His mood completely tanked after Stark arrived. Steve could handle the arrogance and flash, but the son was so much like the father it was wreaking havoc on Steve’s newfound coping mechanisms; during a mission was the worst possible time for memories and messy emotions to unbury themselves.

No amount of ruthless single-mindedness could completely dismiss the distraction. As Steve looked around the bustling bridge of the helicarrier, he couldn’t help but compare and contrast the current time with his own. There were all the surface things, of course--hairstyles, clothing, the way people spoke--but there was also the way people behaved.

It was swell actually. Not anywhere near perfect but if he hadn’t been so attached to his old life, Steve might have been enjoying himself more.

He sensed Coulson approaching before the man came to a stop beside Steve. The silence between them was awkward but not as bad as it was on the ride over.

“The public areas of the helicarrier are open to you. You don’t have to stay here,” Coulson pointed out with a tiny smile. His attention briefly shifted to where Fury had disappeared before returning to Steve.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to the eggheads?” Coulson suggested with a slight shrug. “We might not find the Tesseract in time. Stark and Banner might need to suit up.”

Steve nodded and turned towards the lab area. “So, get to know who I might be fighting beside.”

“Or against. No telling with the Hulk.”

Shaking his head, Steve thanked Coulson and walked away. He didn’t think the Hulk would be a problem. Stark was a loose cannon and Steve didn’t see anyone making cages to shove him in. Steve suspected all the Hulk really needed was to be pointed in the right direction and left to do what he did best.

A plan of attack, so to speak, formed in Steve’s head. He’d been eager to talk to Dr. Banner alone ever since learning about the accident. 

That idea flew right out the window as Steve entered the lab. He caught the tail end of Dr. Banner flinching away from whatever Stark had prodded him with. Gritting his teeth, Steve was determined to put an end to it before it got any further.

“Are you nuts?” he snapped. It was like Stark felt the need to poke his fingers into everyone’s defenses until he found a chink. Well, Steve wasn’t just going to let him do it. None of them were toys for Stark to wind up so he had something interesting to watch.

The way Dr. Banner brushed off Stark’s behavior as harmless made Steve frown. He got roughhousing, used to do it all the time. He and Bu--

No, that was a bad topic to dwell on.

The point was there was a huge difference between getting a little rough and tumble with a buddy and prodding a near stranger to see how they reacted. It was sad that Dr. Banner was so used to being treated like a monster that having Stark jabbing him was a relief.

Since life kind of hated Steve at the moment, Stark managed to sidetrack him before he could spit out his point. As he left the lab, Steve knew he had left both men with the wrong impression. If Steve found anyone in that lab dangerous, it wasn’t Dr. Banner.

Steve hoped he would have time to fix his mistake later. For now, Stark had gotten him thinking about S.H.I.E.L.D.’s activities, and he didn’t like the direction those thoughts were heading.

Breaking in was so easy Steve wondered if Fury was even trying. There hadn’t even been security to shoot Steve nasty looks as he forced the door opened. He was a little disappointed with this technology obsessed era. He’d been expecting an actual challenge.

The weapons were neither hard to find nor particularly surprising. S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t exactly full of boy scouts, and after the way Steve had woken up to this century, he trusted most of them about as far as he could have thrown them pre-serum. It was disappointment and anger churning in Steve’s gut as he slammed the gun down on the lab table combined with annoyance that he was adding to Stark’s smugness.

Reading Fury the riot act should have been Steve’s first priority, but, as usual, Stark’s behavior had Steve veering far off target. No matter how hard he tried, Steve couldn’t get his head on straight. Everything was a growing haze of anger.

Deep down, Steve knew that something was wrong. They were grown men and women acting like children. There was a madman threatening the world with invasion, and they were lashing out at each other instead of working themselves to the bone to stop Loki.

“Yeah, this is a team,” Steve heard Dr. Banner say. The comment was almost buried under Fury’s attempt to scoot Dr. Banner off to some other area of the helicarrier, but it immediately caught Steve’s attention.

It wasn’t an entirely bad idea. If there was some outside force driving them all nuts, there was no telling how it would affect Dr. Banner or the Hulk. What worried Steve was that Fury’s idea of removing Dr. Banner from a hostile environment might involve another cage.

The entire mood of the room shifted when Dr. Banner started retelling his suicide attempt. The confession wasn’t like the anger they were spewing before. It was unnerving, personal, and the words were pouring out of the man like he couldn’t make them stop. 

Steve wanted to cover his mouth and stifle the flow but not because he didn’t want to hear. The exact reasons might be a mystery to him, but Steve knew that desperation, and he doubted it was a story Dr. Banner wanted to tell. Not like this anyway, with a roomful of strangers the man had no reason to trust.

When Dr. Banner picked up the sceptre, Steve shifted, ready to act, but the idea of attacking was pretty low on Steve’s list. For one, it clearly wouldn’t do a thing aside from make the Hulk angry. Two, he firmly believed Dr. Banner could be talked down. The scientist didn’t even seem aware of what he was doing so why antagonize him further?

It was almost a blessing when the computer’s alarm went off and reverted them right back to overgrown children. Trying to prod Stark into a fight felt pretty familiar, like before the serum gave Steve the ultimate growth spurt and he was getting into fistfights every other day. 

Everything went to Hell before he and Stark could beat the crap out of each other, but there were plenty of other people lining up for a chance. Steve proved he still knew his way around a gun regardless of the make, and Stark kept them all from falling into the ocean. By the time it was over, they had gained one potential teammate, lost two, Loki had given them the slip, and Coulson was dead.

Steve wasn’t exactly impressed with their performance so far.

At least Stark’s heart-to-heart with his inner diva pointed them in a viable direction. Steve trusted Romanoff’s judgment about Barton which meant another set of hands to potentially take on an entire army. There wasn’t time to find Thor and Dr. Banner, whatever state they were in. It grated, but there wasn’t always a body to bring home.

By the time they found Loki, it was too late to end the situation without all out war. It felt like one hell of a bad dream when that armored whale creature swam out of the huge hole pulsing in the sky. There was no deny that the entire mess was way over all of their heads, but none of them were going to back down. 

Steve hated the strange mix of pride, approval, and terror that twisted in him. Whether he wanted it or not, these people were his team now. He just hoped they all lived to see this through.

The problem was that they weren’t fighting like a team. Apart, they could only prove minor annoyances. If the team wanted to make any sort of difference, they needed to work together.

Steve felt a pang of relief when Thor descended from the sky, lightning frying combatants like the wrath of God. Or a god. Steve still didn’t want to entertain that idea.

Dr. Banner came literally riding into battle moments later. He looked incredibly out of place among all the chaos, lost and awkward in a way that the rest of them had grown passed. There was no denying he had the best party trick out of the whole group, though.

Steve’s first real glimpse of the Hulk live and in person was full of horrified awe. The transformation was over in a snap, but Steve couldn’t see how it wasn’t excruciating. 

If there was any pain involved, Hulk didn’t let on. Instead he gave them a show, putting the wallop on a space whale like it wasn’t a big deal. Stark was turning the thing into spare parts before Steve could truly appreciate how unbelievably powerful Hulk was. Having flaming flesh and shrapnel raining down on them was pretty low on Steve’s list of enjoyable experiences but there was that teamwork he had been pushing for.

A few orders later, it was just him, Romanoff, and Hulk standing in the middle of destruction and bodies.

“Hulk.” Steve briefly hesitated after getting the giant’s attention, more thrown off by Hulk than the alien force they were fighting. Steve might have been the peak of human perfection, but Hulk went right beyond that. There was an undeniable thrill at the thought of ordering someone that powerful around. “Smash.”

That got him a wide, mean grin, all teeth and mischief like Steve had just made his day. Maybe Steve had. How often did someone actually approve of Hulk using all that strength?

It was definitely coming in helpful now. With proper direction the whole team was fighting better, but that didn’t change the fact they were going up against a whole army. The backup offered by the few cops who weren’t getting people to safety wasn’t going to be enough. Any sort of military presence would have been a godsend at that moment. 

Steve ended up regretting that thought later when they were all injured and being overwhelmed, and Romanoff had worked her way to the device. He didn’t know a lot about modern weaponry but ‘stupid’ didn’t even cover how he felt about the military’s apparent solution. How could anyone with a brain think that bombing a city would stop an army pouring out of the sky?

Stark was on it. Steve’s stomach dropped as Stark and the warhead disappeared through the portal. A few seconds later, the enemy dropped like puppets with their strings cut. It was convenient and confusing, but Steve certainly wasn’t going to complain. 

It was taking too long for Stark to come back through, and despite the foul taste in his mouth, Steve had to call it. Inside, he was praying for a miracle. He thought he’d gotten it when Stark fell back through just before the portal fully closed. The relief died a quick, horrible death as Stark did nothing to slow his descent. He could feel Thor gearing up to take flight, air whipping around them as the warrior sent his hammer spinning.

The last thing Steve expected to happen was Hulk bursting out of a building and snatching Stark out of the air. The landing was ugly, but Hulk seemed to be okay.

Stark was another matter. He was unresponsive, probably dead. A bitter sort of laugh tried to well up in Steve. It seemed fitting of Stark to make his last gesture both heroic and a giant middle finger to anyone who had doubted him. 

It sounded like a good way to go out.

Stark didn’t stay dead. Apparently even corpses paid attention when Hulk made his presence known. Steve allowed himself to laugh this time, mostly in relief, as Stark went on about food. After that stunt, who was Steve to argue if Stark wanted to drag the team along to broaden his culinary horizons.

While Stark was getting his bearings, Steve did a quick check. Most of the team was with him looking banged up but moving on their own. Romanoff was by the device. A quick radio chat gave him Barton’s location and condition. The lot of them could do with some medical treatment--Hulk included, scarily enough--but they would hold for now.

“I didn’t see a light, you know,” Stark babbled as he clanked and clanged over to Hulk without an ounce of fear. “Well, I did. The explosion had lots of lights. Real show. Might add it to my next event but with way less death.”

Steve stiffened as Stark got into Hulk’s space and patted one enormous bicep. If it bothered Hulk, he didn’t show it.

“I mean, it wasn’t the whole ‘shining light at the end of the tunnel, woooo spooky’ thing.” Stark rambled on as Hulk bent closer, face coming inches from the smaller man’s. Stark, like a nut, ruffled Hulk’s short curls. “I was expecting a laser show, honestly. Not that I’m not happy to miss out. Thanks, buddy.”

Hulk straightened a little, glancing sideways with a soft snort. He looked embarrassed but pleased and vainly trying to cover up both.

“Welcome,” Hulk said after a moment, taking Steve by surprise. It came out quieter than he had expected, and Hulk’s voice sounded eerily like Dr. Banner’s.

Steve gave a slight shake of his head and switched his focus. “Agent Romanoff, what’s Loki’s condition?”

“Pancake. He’s suffering from a nasty case of Hulk-smashed,” she answered with a touch of amusement. “Tell Stark he’ll have a nice Loki-shaped crater in his floor as a souvenir.”

Steve let out a small huff of a laugh, and Hulk glanced over from where Stark was quietly talking to him about stretchy pants. It was only a few seconds of eye contact, but Hulk’s focus cut like a knife. Steve wasn’t sure how Stark didn’t squirm under the full weight of it.

“My brother...” Thor began then trailed off. He looked around at the destruction like a lost child.

“Is alive but possibly needing medical attention. We’ll make sure he gets it once he’s restrained,” Steve answered almost absently but not unkindly. “Stark, thank Hulk for the nice hole he left in your tower. Maybe you could frame it and show it off to friends.”

“With pride,” Stark shot back before giving Hulk another pat with a quiet ‘strut, Big Guy’. “J.A.R.V.I.S., there enough juice left for a couple of calls? I’m actually looking forward to the earful I’m going to get.”

Steve didn’t hear an answer from whoever Stark was talking to, but the genius was smiling as he walked away for a little privacy. Hulk watched Stark for a moment then stared off into the distance. His entire body was held tense as though he was expecting another fight. It took a moment, but by the time Steve figured it out he felt like an absolute blockhead.

“They’d catch hell if they showed up to capture you after missing this whole fight,” Steve called out as he slowly approached Hulk. Steve wasn’t scared of him, but he wouldn’t blame Hulk for worrying that they’d turn on him now that the battle was over.

Hulk’s gaze fixed on him again, sharp and wary but also curious. Some deep subconscious thing in Steve screamed at the sight of a superior predator. Steve grinned.

“And I imagine a public dressing down from Captain America wouldn’t help their image either.”

Hulk cracked one of those mean, mischievous grins again and relaxed a little. “Sounds fun.”

“Can be when they’re asking for it,” Steve agreed and stopped a few feet away from Hulk. “And I’d say they do if they try anything. You’re a hero. We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Confusion settled over Hulk’s features then cleared. Intelligent eyes searched Steve’s face before meeting his gaze again. “Hero? Maybe.”

“No maybe about it,” Steve shot back without any hesitation. “You’re a hero and a member of this team. I’m honored to know you.”

Hulk reacted about the way Steve expected: a little confused, a lot embarrassed, and as likely to accept the compliment as Dr. Banner. Hulk looked away and let out a little grumble that could easily be mistaken for annoyance if parts of his face weren’t growing a slightly darker shade of green. Steve bit his lower lip to stop from grinning like an idiot. It was probably illegal to find someone who could crush him like a bug adorable.

Stark chose that moment to come back. He glanced between Steve and Hulk, eyes calculating, then nodded. “I ship it.”

“What?”

“Not a thing, Cap,” Stark said with pointed nonchalance. “Don’t we have a would-be conqueror with a ugly as sin helmet to put away?”

Shooting Stark a suspicious look, Steve refocused and nodded. He hoped the elevators were still working in the Tower. Just thinking about climbing all those stairs was leaving him exhausted. 

“If the elevators are out, I’ve got dibs on Thor,” Barton said when he arrived. 

Steve gave him a quick once over to make sure Barton hadn’t played down his injuries. Hulk, probably deciding subtly was pointless anyway, leaned towards the archer and sniffed. Barton didn’t even blink.

“I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Clint. I shoot things,” Barton said and held out his hand for Hulk.

There was a long pause as Hulk stared at the offered hand, head cocked in a way that reminded Steve of a dog. Then Hulk voiced a low amused sound, glanced at his own hands, and presented one large finger instead.

“Aww, that’s cute,” Stark muttered, tone not completely mocking. “You don’t like riding with me anymore, Merida?”

“Right now? Can you even get off the ground? You look like a strong wind could make you its bitch.”

“Only if it wants to go toe to toe with Pepper for the rights to my ass,” Stark flippantly shot back. Steve thought it was a pretty ironic thing for Tony Stark, outspoken Adynamic, to say.

“Don’t worry. You won’t have to get overly friendly with Thor just yet,” Stark promised with a smirk as he started clamoring his way down the street. “The elevators are still working. Even got one that’ll fit you, Big Green.”

The five of them didn’t walk off into the sunset with an air of mystery. They dragged along like a gaggle of tired children herded by an equally tired green nanny. Hulk--who wasn’t exactly made to keep pace with a bunch of slow moving, regular sized people--quickly got fed up with their progress and began snatching them up. Steve and Barton ended up perched on one rock solid shoulder each while Stark was tucked into the crook of Hulk’s arm like a baby. Thor, seeing the way the wind was blowing, decided he was well enough to fly.

Reaching the tower, Hulk set Stark back on the ground and Barton hopped off. When Steve shifted to do the same, huge fingers lightly wrapped around his leg, more to get his attention than hold him in place.

“Climbing’s faster,” Hulk pointed out as he met Steve’s questioning gaze. 

Steve glanced up at the tower and released a small bark of laughter. “I can’t climb that.”

“I can.”

They shared a look, intelligent green eyes issuing a challenge. Steve was horrible at backing down from challenges.

“Super soldier bonding time,” he called out to the others. Steve didn’t break eye contact even as he shifted to get a much better grip. “We’ll meet you up top.”

“What’s more property damage between friends, right?” Stark asked, sounding perfectly fine with it as he waved them on.

Hulk was pretty classy about his King Kong act. He took his time finding handholds to minimize any further damage. Every now and then he would check that Steve still had a sufficient hold. It was nice but unnecessary. Steve might let his pride talk him into playing piggyback on a mile high climb, but he wasn’t going to let it leave him splattered across the pavement. 

Steve’s heart was racing by the time they reached the top, and a smile was threatening to break loose from the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Romanoff, Thor, and Dr. Selvig were waiting by the device. Thor was too focused on the crater-bound Loki to care about their entrance, but Romanoff gave Steve a little smirk. Dr. Selvig’s expression was an odd mix of fear, recognition, and awe. 

Stark and Barton stumbled onto the scene just as Loki began to stir. The entire team moved in to restrain him, but Loki went without a fight and seemed perfectly happy drinking Stark’s alcohol while he could. 

The next half hour was incredibly tense. Loki was too strong to be held by any impromptu restraints, and no one trusted him to stay amenable for long. From the way Loki kept shooting Hulk nervous glances, Steve suspected the threat of another smashing was going a long way to keep Loki in line. It certainly wasn’t lost on Hulk, who was smirking like a particularly smug cat.

A second Iron Man suit arrived with S.H.I.E.L.D. reinforcements. Stark practically tripped over himself to reach the other armored figure as Director Fury exited his transport.

“Tony,” the second suit said, the name coming out strained.

Stark was practically vibrating in place. “Yep, that’s me. You can handle this, right, Fury. Of course you can. Come on, Rhodey. Hey, Hulk, you too. We’ll find you a nice room and some Bruce-sized clothes.”

No one commented on Stark grabbing the other Iron Man by the hand and dragging him off. Hulk, ignoring Fury completely, shot Steve a questioning look. The situation no longer seemed to need Hulk’s special touch, so Steve nodded. Hulk made a low considering noise and shot Loki a parting glare before trailing Stark deeper into the Tower.

Thor’s attention stayed fixed on Fury. “If you are here to take my brother--”

“I am but I sure as hell don’t plan to keep him,” Fury interrupted while scowling at Loki. “Whenever you plan on getting off this lovely planet, you’re free to take him and the Tesseract with you.”

The look Thor leveled on him was pure suspicion. Near the bar, Loki intently watched the proceedings. 

“I am to believe you after your plans for the Tesseract?”

“In an ideal reality, I’d have your brother’s head on a platter,” Fury shot back, tone flat but gaze boiling with anger. “Then again, in an ideal reality Manhattan wouldn’t have become a fucking interstellar warzone.

“Someone put Loki up to this. Maybe that someone will find another patsy to do their dirty work or maybe they’ll actually get their hands dirty. Either way, we’re going to need Asgard’s help.”

Surveying the scene, Steve decided all hell probably wouldn’t break loose if he left for a little while. Thor and Fury were both monumentally pissed, but they were keeping their hands to themselves. Under Thor’s watchful eye, S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were putting Loki in some pretty sturdy looking restraints. They seemed to have it well under control.

Steve knew his departure didn’t go unnoticed, but no one tried to stop him as he retraced Stark and Hulk’s steps. He found his way into a kitchen then hesitated as he neared the exit. There was the grind of metal against metal and the low key scent of arousal waiting around the corner.

Poking his head into the attached Hall, Steve found Stark and the second Iron Man some ten or fifteen feet away. The stranger’s helmet was lying on the floor beside them, forgotten in favor of seeing how far the two men could shove their tongue down the other’s throat.

Shaking his head at the image of two heavily armored people making out, Steve continued down the hall. He stepped loudly to ensure his approach was noted. The last thing he wanted was an arsenal unleashed on him on instinct. Luckily, he strode passed the pair without incident.

Once he’d put some distance between them, Steve inhaled deeply through his nose and listened closely. He smelled Dr. Banner and, almost too faint to notice, the similar but darker, muskier tang of Hulk’s scent. Steve followed the trail to a door and knocked. The voice that invited him in was tired but strong and completely unsurprised.

After the Hulk, it was easy to forget how small Dr. Banner made himself. He was sitting hunched over at the foot of a large bed, spine curved like if he just tried hard enough he could fold into himself and disappear. Steve couldn’t tell if Dr. Banner was doing it out of misery or to make himself seem less of a threat.

Not that Dr. Banner was very terrifying at the moment. He was dirty, shirtless, and practically swimming in what remained of the pants he was clutching around his waist. He was watching Steve like he didn’t know whether to apologize or crack a joke.

“You did good out there today.”

Dr. Banner shook his head and let out a small, mirthless laugh. “Not me. All I did was let the Other Guy out.”

“You came back,” Steve pointed out as he sat down beside the other man. “You didn’t have to. You could have taken off and hoped for the best.”

Scrubbing a hand over his face and through his wild curls, Dr. Banner groaned. “I almost did.” 

“So? I’ve got people toting me as some ideal of perfection and bravery,” Steve said with a scowl that wasn’t directed at Dr Banner. “Do you know how many times I’ve almost backed down because I knew I was going to get my ass kicked up between my shoulders?”

Dr. Banner didn’t look particularly impressed. Any other time, Steve would appreciate not being put on a pedestal. At the moment, all being treated like an average joe was doing was make it harder to get his point across.

“What matters is what we actually do, not what we considered doing.”

“Nice but not exactly true,” Dr. Banner muttered then straightened and leveled Steve with a look that made him think of Hulk. “So, you here to keep me from doing a runner?”

“No, I’m here to tell you you’re not a monster or a failure or any of the other crap people have been spewing.”

“Because Captain America says so?” Dr. Banner asked with a humorless flash of teeth.

Steve sighed. He should have known that, mild mannered act or not, Dr. Banner would be the arguing sort. “Because it’s true. Is there a rule that says geniuses have to act like brats?”

“Only before coffee,” Dr. Banner shot back after a genuine chuckle. “I’m not saying I agree with you but what do you mean by failure?”

“Your version of the super soldier program.” Steve frowned at the confused look that crossed Dr. Banner’s face. “You...you have absolutely no idea what I’m talking about. Your accident.”

Dr. Banner didn’t seem any closer to understanding. “We were working on a way to raise radiation resistance. What made you think we were _trying_ to make a super soldier?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Then they’re a crap intelligence agency,” Dr. Banner said with a dark smile. Steve could see why the idea might please him. 

“I’ve never even researched the S.S. program. Didn’t it revolve around the serum?” Dr. Banner waited for Steve to nod before shaking his head with scoff. “Then there’s no point in trying to replicate the results with radiation alone.”

Anger and nausea twisted in Steve’s gut, making the injured flesh and muscles there ache. “Were there injections involved?”

“Well, yeah. Walling made...” Dr. Banner barked out an ugly laugh and tangled his fingers in his messy curls. “I should have guessed that on my own. Ross is obsessed with you, you know? I just--I really didn’t think he was that much of an ass.”

Steve could practically feel himself disappearing from the other man’s focus as Dr. Banner muttered to himself. “But that _can’t_ be right. The entire team went over the notes. We tested it on animals, and there’s no little furry super soldiers running around.”

He fell silent for a long moment then jerked his head up and blinked. It took a few seconds for his eyes to refocus on Steve. “Uh, thanks. People kept saying super soldier but I just thought they were grasping at the nearest comparison.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t come in here to make you feel worse.”

“No, it’s--I’m not happy about the possibility that I was thrown under the bus, but I needed to know. It might help me fix this,” Dr. Banner explained, but nothing about his tone and expression said he had any faith in that happening. “I mean it, thank you.”

Frowning, Steve dropped his gaze. He felt anything but helpful at the moment. “If you say so. What are you going to do now?”

“Get dressed in someone else’s clothes. Let the billionaire foot the bill for the after battle meal.” Dr. Banner shrugged, humor bleeding into his expression. “After that, well, I guess I could sneak away while Tony’s distracted by his boyfriend.”

“Keep dreaming. You won’t get five feet before he drags you back.”

Steve stood. He didn’t really feel much better, but at least he got a chuckle out of Dr. Banner. “I’ll leave you to get dressed now.”

“Could you not?” Dr. Banner asked then ducked his head, lips forming a rueful half smile. “Someone’s got to tell me what happened out there, and I get the feeling Tony’ll... embellish. A lot.”

Laughing softly, Steve sat back down and began recounting the battle as Dr. Banner slowly dressed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really bugged by the discrepancy between The Incredible Hulk and The Avengers about how aware Bruce was of the experiment's true purpose, so I just had to do something about it. I hope I gave a believable explanation.
> 
> Also, I definitely took inspiration from [this American Pi headcanon](http://americanpiheadcanons.tumblr.com/post/36216951495/american-pi-headcanon-20-on-the-shield).


	2. Chapter 2

Steve didn’t know how he’d ever underestimated Stark. First, there’d been the sacrifice play, and now Steve was left with the unshakable feeling Stark was the mastermind of some scheme that had Steve playing a major role. 

Steve had known something was up from how distracted Stark had been during Fury’s casual debriefing of the team. Steve had barely had time to change into the clothes Fury had handed him afterward before Stark had pounced.

The conversation had been pretty straightforward. Dr. Banner had told Stark he doubted he could sleep at ground zero of the recent battle, and Steve and Dr. Banner apparently had some sort of mutual trust for each other. Stark hadn’t even needed to spell out the obvious and reasonable solution, but he’d been way too smug about Steve agreeing to help. 

“Something just happened, didn’t it?” Steve asked in a loud whisper directed at no one in particular. With the others gone--Thor back to the helicarrier, Stark and Dr. Banner behind a closed door, Barton and Fury to god knew where--Romanoff was the only person to hear him.

Eyes closed, she smiled benignly from the huge stuffed chair she had slumped into an hour ago. Steve was absolutely certain she was laughing at him. “Many things. It was a very busy day.”

Steve jabbed a finger at the room where Stark and Dr. Banner were holed up. “I meant that. I feel like I just got played a sucker and I don’t know whether to be insulted or impressed.”

“So, you don’t want to let Banner stay with you?” Romanoff asked, so casual it was obviously faked. She squirmed a little then settled with a contented mutter.

“Of course not! Why should I mind?” Romanoff arched an eyebrow and Steve rolled his eyes in response. “I’m not scared of the Hulk.”

“You’ve never had him aiming for you.”

Frowning, Steve didn’t even consider arguing. Between Romanoff and Thor, he’d gotten enough of the story to know what had happened on the helicarrier. There was no way in hell he was going to act like Romanoff didn’t have a reason to be wary.

“He got me to play Fay Wray to his King Kong. I don’t think he’s looking to hurt me,” Steve replied, allowing a note of uncertainty to enter his voice at the end.

Romanoff cracked one eye open and scrutinized his face with a considering gleam. After a moment, she nodded and went back to impersonating a tired cat. “But you know he might. Good.”

They lapsed into silence after that, Steve lost in his thoughts and Romanoff possibly--but probably not--asleep. Steve was trying to estimate how much food he and Dr. Banner would eat combined, how much was in his apartment, and where the nearest open grocery store after a battle would be when Stark emerged looking put out. 

“You!” Stark snapped, pointing at Steve like he’d done something wrong. Steve made sure his face showed just how unimpressed he was. “Talk to him. Apparently, he doesn’t think your spangly heart is big enough to give him a place to stay without bribery involved. I just don’t get how someone so smart can act so stupid.”

Biting back the urge to ask how many people had said the same about Stark wasn’t exactly easy but it was cake after the day Steve had been having. Romanoff didn’t even bother. She seemed to take great pleasure in the annoyed look Stark shot her as she scoffed.

“You can commiserate with Rhodes and Potts over the horrors of wrangling stubborn geniuses,” she lazily suggested. Her attention shifted to Steve. “But Banner _is_ more likely to believe it if you tell him yourself.”

“Right. Listen to the devil woman,” Stark agreed with an enthusiastic nod and a shooing motion at Steve. He almost stayed put just to drive Stark nuts.

The door led to what appeared to be an office. Steve had expected something ultra high tech and cluttered with machines. What he found was a neat, lived in space full of dark leather and wood furniture and broad bookcases with brimming shelves. It reminded Steve of his therapist’s office.

He found Dr. Banner slumped at Stark’s desk looking decidedly less comfortable than Romanoff about lounging on Stark’s things. Wary, curious eyes watched Steve mill around the room before approaching the desk. 

“No, Stark didn’t bully me into being civil. He told me you couldn’t sleep here, and my apartment has plenty of room,” Steve insisted even though he had some doubts that was the real issue. Dr. Banner bought too much into his own bad press.

“I don’t want to impose,” Dr. Banner said, tapping out a mindless rhythm on the wood now that he didn’t have his glasses to fiddle with. “I’m good at finding some place to stay on the fly.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Steve sat on the edge of the desk, arms crossed. “But you shouldn’t have to. You can stay at my place and free up space for someone whose home just got destroyed.”

Dr. Banner’s head snapped up to level Steve with a glare. Steve met the look head on, unwavering. “Be honest with me. If you really don’t want to board with me, fine. I’ll drop it. But if you’re doing this because you think I need protecting, cut it out. I’m sick of people trying to baby me.”

Guilt mixed with the anger in Dr. Banner’s expression, but Steve knew better than to think he had won. It was like fighting with Stark all over again, that same stubborn butting of heads. As annoying as he found it, Steve was happy it was happening. He’d have been concerned if Dr. Banner had been absolutely complacent and compliant with a near stranger.

“You really want to room with a monster that bad?” Dr. Banner asked with a scowl. His gaze had yet to do the usual nervous dance to avoid meeting Steve’s. The sharp, angry stare reminded him of Hulk.

“I’m a soldier. I’ve seen monsters, fought against them and beside them. You don’t even come close.”

Dr. Banner released an exasperated huff that sounded almost like a laugh. “You’re stubborn.”

“So are you,” Steve shot back with a hint of a smile. “Got anything else. I don’t think I’m feeling properly terrified just yet.”

“I’m a Sub,” Dr. Banner countered, tone flippant but eyes sharp. It felt more like he was searching Steve out than presenting a real argument.

Steve’s smile was all teeth. “And if my Ma wasn’t a Dom, I’ll plant one on Fury.” Not to mention Peggy. He just couldn’t imagine either of them taking an order from anyone they didn’t absolutely have to. “Not everyone from the forties was backwards. Try harder.” 

A laugh startled out of Dr. Banner. He shook his head, gaze shifting sideways before fixing on Steve again. “You’ve gotta be a Dom with how bossy you are.”

“Me? Bossy? Nah, I’m a giant pushover,” Steve joked. The relaxed lines of Dr. Banner’s shoulders eased some of the tension Steve had been feeling. “Worried I’m going to mother hen you to death?”

“I think I’ll manage. What do you get out of this, anyway?”

“I’ve lived with someone for most of my life. The silence is kind of creeping me out,” Steve admitted. He could recount far too many night’s spent staring at the ceiling while the silence kept him awake. “So you finally done?”

Dark eyes flicked away again, staring at the middle distance. Dr. Banner’s brow furrowed, mouth turning down at the corners, then his gaze refocused and his face cleared.

“I’ll try it for a night. If I can actually sleep there, okay.” He pushed up on his feet, head cocked and eyes expectant. “Lead the way, Cap.”

Leaving the office, they found Stark and Romanoff having a quiet, amiable argument. As far as Steve could tell, Stark was half jokingly trying to convince her to work for him with little success. She refused him with a genuine, almost fond smile.

“Oh come on, Stark Industries’ dental plan is _amazing_!” Stark insisted, grinning like a man who knew he wasn’t going to win. “Finally talked sense into him, Spangles?”

“I’m such a soft touch,” Dr. Banner said with an exaggerated sigh and a broad shrug. “You promised me a visit to your labs. I plan to hold you to it later.”

“Got it. Have fun eating him out of house and home. Happy’ll get you there.”

Dr. Banner offered Stark and Romanoff a sloppy salute before striding off towards the elevators. Saying his own goodbyes, Steve followed. He silently thanked Stark for having the forethought. How they were going to get back to his apartment hadn’t occurred to Steve.

The elevator took the initiative to get itself moving the moment they were inside. Steve didn’t question it. He’d facing down weapons that evaporated people and a guy with a red skull for a head, a voice coming from the ceiling and machines that worked on their own seemed pretty mundane.

“You know, the rescue effort is probably still going on,” Dr. Banner pointed out at random. His fingers nervously flexed before he shoved them in the pockets of his borrowed jeans.

Steve nodded. The operation had been in its infancy as the team had made their way back to the Tower. The organizers had still been dividing the huge mass of soldiers, cops, paramedics, and volunteers into smaller groups that would tackle specific sections of the borough. Lt. Colonel Rhodes and his War Machine had already been handling some of the larger pieces of debris.

“Probably. It’s going to be a huge job,” Steve replied just as casually. He glanced over at Dr. Banner.

The scientist’s mouth quirked into a small smile as he met Steve’s gaze. “They could always use more hands.”

There was a beat of silence then Steve made a soft noise of agreement. “J.A.R.V.I.S., change of plans. Think you can let us out on the first floor?”

“I can,” the voice answered with an air of hesitance. As the elevator jolted into action again, Steve considered just how human J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded. It was really impressive. “But, Captain Rogers, it might be wiser to rest first.”

“Wiser, sure, but they need all the help they can get out there. We’ll leave before we drop,” Steve countered when the elevator door opened to reveal the empty lobby. Dr. Banner got off before him and kept going, glancing backwards once as if to make sure Steve could keep up. 

“I will inform Mr. Hogan.”

“Tell him sorry for the inconvenience. Thanks for the help, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Steve directed at the ceiling then walked out onto the battle-torn wreckage of the street.

***

Both men were exhausted--physically, mentally, and emotionally--by the time Rhodes threatened to sic Stark on them if they didn’t find a couple of beds to fall into. Mr. Hogan was waiting for them when they stumbled their way back to the Tower. He didn’t even bat an eye as he ushered the pair into a swanky car despite them both looking like they’d bathed in ground concrete.

Steve didn’t remember much of the ride back to his apartment, but Stark’s driver managed to get them there in one piece. It was jarring going from the battle-scarred streets of Manhattan to the physically untouched Brooklyn. The silence of the nearly empty streets was eerie. Steve could easily imagine the residents huddled in their homes, praying the familiar walls would keep them safe.

Despite being exhausted, Steve found the idea of sleeping as he was was far from appealing. He offered the shower to Dr. Banner first though, after deciding the smaller man probably wouldn’t brain himself if left alone.

Steve flopped down on his couch as he waited. The sounds of someone else moving around the apartment were already soothing him, and sleep took the opportunity to try to drag him under. Steve was almost gone when the phone’s shrill ring startled him back to awareness.

“Hello?” he greeted, voice raspy.

“You sound absolutely done in.”

A smile bloomed on Steve’s face, as big and dopey as it always was when Peggy was involved. “Because I am. Sorry. I should have called you.”

“Nicholas kept me informed,” Peggy assured with a subtle edge of steel that said Fury wouldn’t have considered doing otherwise. Steve didn’t doubt it. Age hadn’t made Peggy any less dangerous. “How are you, aside from tired?”

“I don’t know. I apparently have a new team,” he answered, knowing he didn’t have to go more indepth. They’d talked enough since he’d been unfrozen for her to know exactly how reluctant Steve was to connect to new people. 

Peggy made a soft, sympathetic noise. “And a new roommate apparently.”

“Are you going to tell me it’s a bad idea too?”

“Not at all. He sounds like a sweet boy when he’s not breaking things,” Peggy answered with a smile in her voice. 

Steve didn’t think he’d ever get over hearing her call a middle aged man ‘boy’. He kept forgetting that she wasn’t in her twenties anymore, and there was always a brief moment of disconnect when he saw her now. But she was still Peggy, still beautiful, always beautiful.

“I’m surprised Anthony let you walk off with him.”

“Only because he’s got daytime custody,” Steve said with a laugh. “He just saw an opportunity to exploit and ran with it.”

Steve tilted his head in the direction of approaching footsteps but didn’t fully turn to look at Dr. Banner. The scientist smelled clean, like Steve’s soap and detergent. Hesitating a moment, Dr. Banner settled on the far end of the couch to wait. 

Steve bit back a snicker. His clothes were way too big for Dr. Banner.

“Can I call you back in the morning?”

“Of course. Just remember, it’s okay to make new friends.”

“I know, Peggy. Doesn’t make it any easier,” Steve muttered then said his goodbyes and hung up. He gave Dr. Banner an apologetic look. “Forgot to report in with everyone.”

“Your girlfriend?” Dr. Banner asked carefully as though he was afraid the topic might be off limits.

Ducking his head, Steve’s mouth tugged into a soft, sad smile. “No, we... We, um, never got that far.” 

Dr. Banner apologized and seemed to grow even more uncomfortable with the topic. It was kind of endearing the way he fidgeted, hands eager for something to fumble with and dark eyes performing a nervous dance to avoid making contact for long. No wonder most people never thought he was a threat. 

Steve had a feeling Dr. Banner played that awkwardness for all it was worth.

He considered not asking, especially since there was the risk of accidentally hitting a nerve. Then Steve thought about it, about the way Dr. Banner had treated Stark’s poking like a good thing. Steve didn’t have any intention of being that rude but tiptoeing through certain subjects didn’t seem the way to go.

“The whole shy, awkward professor thing, that an act?”

Dr. Banner blinked in surprise then his face did something too complex for Steve to read. Eventually, his expression settled into sly amusement. 

“I already told you one secret, Cap.” There was that unwavering eye contact again like back in Stark’s office, only this time it was all challenge rather than anger. It was like he was daring Steve to prove that Dr. Banner was anything but what he showed himself to be. “Getting the rest out of me is gonna take effort.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Okay, you win. For now anyway,” he playfully warned as he levered himself off the couch.

“Come on, I’ll show you your room. Wild guess but there’ll probably be a whole wardrobe worth of new clothes waiting for you at the door later.”

“I think I’m Tony’s new pet project,” Dr. Banner muttered as he followed. He didn’t sound as though he knew how to feel about it, but he didn’t seem upset.

“Must to be Stark thing. I’m pretty sure I could say the same about me and Howard. Here.” Steve pushed open the door to the guest room. “Just yell if you need anything, but you’ve got the run of the place. You don’t have to wait for me to give the go ahead.”

“Thanks, Steve. I know I don’t act very grateful but, seriously, thanks.”

Dr. Banner disappeared inside before Steve could reply, a muffled goodnight drifting through the door like an afterthought. Blinking at the space Dr. Banner had occupied, a surprised laugh bubbled out of Steve before he set off for a much needed shower.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologizing in advise if you think the action scene sucks. 
> 
> Also, updates might be a little slow because I'm doing Camp NaNo this month. I'm already about 1k into the next chapter so hopefully I'll have it completed and edited before next week. After that, there's no telling until the month is over but I plan to work on both this and my NaNo everyday.

Steve had hoped--had prayed--that he wouldn’t have to put the suit on again so soon after the invasion. Like maybe if he wished for it hard enough, people would be decent and not take advantage of the mess that had been dumped on them less than a week ago.

Using his shield to block a blast, he was glad he’d been cynical enough to mend the suit anyway. 

When Fury had interrupted his workout that morning--because that was apparently the best time to bring up Captain America business--Steve had assumed some of the Chitauri weren’t as dead as they’d appeared. Instead he found out there was a group of robbers dressed to the nines in flak jackets and BDUs using discarded alien weapons to run rampant in the Diamond District. Steve still didn’t place complete trust in Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. but there were bozos putting people’s lives at risk. He couldn’t just tell Fury to shove it and ignore the problem.

So there Steve was taking cover behind an abandoned police car with only a group of agents for backup. Stark was on the opposite side of the country, Thor wasn’t even on the planet, and Romanoff and Barton were on S.H.I.E.L.D. business. That left Bruce--formality had gone out the window pretty fast--and everyone was hesitant to see if Hulk would be as willing to help with something more mundane than an alien invasion.

There were five men in total currently holed up in one of the stores. There _had_ been six but a well placed shot in the midst of return fire had permanently put that extra man down. The robbers had already returned the favor, managing to get one of the agents who had been scrambling for cover after their old spot had taken too much of a beating. 

Despite the military dress, Steve doubted that most of the criminals were soldiers. Their bearing was all wrong, their movements sloppy and hesitant, and they were slow to follow the orders snapped at them by the one man whose every action screamed military precision.

For lack of a better name, Steve called that one Heavy for now. He was average height, built like a brick wall, and moved like he owned the world. Heavy even had the nerve to wear Chitauri arm and leg armor over his BDUs. As Steve considered ways of getting into the store, he wondered if Heavy’s collar was the reason the bozos ignored him.

Every time Steve tried to make some progress towards the store, a shot was taken at him. The Chitauri weapons had less punch than the Hydra ones he’d gone up against during the war, but Steve wasn’t sure he could survive too many direct hits from the things. Larry, Moe, Curly, and Shemp--as Steve called the other robbers--were horrible shots, but Lady Luck had clearly taken a liking to them. 

“Sooo, you seem to need some help,” drifted over Steve’s comm as he huddled behind his shield to avoid another blast.

Steve managed a grim smile. “Please and thank you, Doc. Everyone else, get out of here when Hulk shows up. We can handle it from there.”

The chorus of agreement he received in answer was drowned out by the sound of some very large feet. Hulk clamored to a stop beside him, baleful green eyes flicking dismissively over the captured store before zeroing in on Steve.

“I guess it’s pretty obvious what’s going on,” Steve said, tone more like a question as he watched the agents follow his order. He trusted Hulk to keep an eye on the robbers.

“Idiots with dangerous toys.” Hulk looked about as bored as he sounded, but he seemed willing to wait and see how Steve wanted to handle it.

Unconsciously patting Hulk’s bicep led to a wide eyed look and Hulk leaning into the contact. 

“Gotta give them a chance to give up now that someone scarier than me’s shown up.” He bit back a laugh at Hulk’s smug grin. 

“You see what you’re up against,” Steve shouted at the building. “Turn yourselves in now before this gets any worse.”

“Go fuck yourself!” one of the men yelled back even though none of them had dared open fire since Hulk arrived. Steve wasn’t sure which had said it but decided it was Moe on principle.

Dumb as bricks the whole lot of them. Shaking his head, Steve shared a look with an unrepentantly amused Hulk. 

“Hulk smash?” The giant’s expression and tone could only be described as smarmy. It wasn’t so much a question as a gentle taunt.

“Unless you can think of a more delicate way to get passed that front wall,” Steve answered evenly, one side of his mouth pulling up at the corner.

“We need to know how they got those weapons working again. You get rid of the wall and while they’re focused on you, I’ll get in there and start knocking some heads.”

Hulk rolled his eyes and let out a soft, annoyed sound. “Sure,” he grumbled. “I make door. You have fun.”

“Yep. Benefit of being the leader,” Steve joked despite the tension bunching in his shoulders. “Open the wall, draw their fire, and when this is over, I’ll take you out for a hot dog.”

Snorting, Hulk walked away on all fours. He shrugged off the sudden bursts of weapon fire that smacked into him as he approached the building. “Cheap date,” he threw over his shoulder then reached out and put his hand through the wall. 

Panicked yelling and more blasts came pouring out as Hulk tore out the rest of the wall. Steve hefted his shield and ran into the fray, slipping around Hulk while the giant easily took the brunt of the shots. Steve dove out of the way of a stray blast, rolling behind cover then onto his feet to sling his shield in a single movement. The shield bounced off a wall then a display case before slamming into Larry’s side just as he was swinging around to aim at Steve.

Now that Hulk had done his part with the wall, he seemed content to loom in the gaping hole and watch the action unfold. Steve couldn’t spare the time and energy to care, especially since Hulk was doing what he’d been told to do anyway. 

Snatching his shield out of the air, Steve spun and brought it down so it took the impact of another shot. He could feel the shock of it ride up his arms, making his muscles throb. Pressing the short opening given to him, Steve charged into Moe’s personal space and swung his shield up. The man’s head snapped back as the lip of the shield connected his chin, and Steve was moving to Shemp before Moe even hit the floor.

Going low, he was sweeping Shemp’s legs out from under him just as Curly let out a startled yell and went flying a short distance through the air. Hulk gave an indifferent shrug when Steve knocked his man out and hazarded a glance in Hulk’s direction.

Just one left. 

Steve turned to face Heavy then paused. The other man wasn’t poised to attack, legs slightly apart and body loose. His weapon was pointed at the ground and his calm, assessing gaze moved from Steve to Hulk then back without any sign of fear.

“Giving up?” Steve asked, managing to sound authoritative instead of wary and tense.

Slowly cocking his head, Heavy’s mouth tugged into a small, smug smile. “Earn it.”

Instead of raising the Chitauri gun, Heavy casually tossed it aside and pulled a blade from under his right arm guard. A low, rumbling growl filled the room as Hulk edged closer, debris crunching under his knuckles and feet. Steve wondered if Hulk was as set off by Heavy’s body language as he was.

He considered letting Hulk handle it so they didn’t run the risk of this guy getting away. But there was also a chance of Hulk killing him, and Steve had a feeling that Heavy was the one who could answer all of Fury’s questions.

“Going to let your boyfriend handle it?” was shot at Steve. There was no fear in the crisp words or lines of Heavy’s body as he slid into a fighting stance.

“If he was my boyfriend, you’d already be a smear across the wall,” Steve answered as he adjusted his shield. He kept his gaze trained on the man even as he addressed his teammate. “I can handle it, Hulk. He’s still got to get by you if he beats me.”

Hulk made a low disgruntled noise but reluctantly backed down. Steve rolled his shoulders, ignored the residual ache in his arms from the impact of the blasts, and went on the attack.

Heavy wasn’t joking when he’d said Steve would have to earn his surrender. While Steve was able to deflect the knife, he wasn’t doing much better at landing a hit. Heavy was fast despite his broadness, twisting and ducking out of Steve’s way when not expertly blocking the blows. The strangely melodic metal on metal scrape of the blade sliding across the shield grated on Steve’s nerve.

Heavy was fast, strong, and skilled, but he was still going up against a super soldier. Steve could feel the blows weakening the longer they fought, the prolonged effort draining Heavy’s strength far sooner than it would Steve’s. 

So he kept hammering at his opponent’s stamina until Heavy’s movements began to grow sluggish. The man stumbled back under a particularly hard blow, and Steve went with it, using the moment of unbalance to knock Heavy’s other leg out from under him. Steve followed him down, intent on knocking the knife out of his grip.

Before he could, the blade flashed from on hand to the other and struck out. It sliced through fabric and flesh, laying open a long wound on Steve’s right arm. Ignoring the pain and blood, Steve wrapped his hand around Heavy’s wrist and squeezed hard enough to feel the bones grind.

The blade dropped with a sharp hiss and a clang.

“Alright, alright,” Heavy said in between harsh pants of air, hands spread wide in surrender. “You win.”

Steve got to his feet, standing tall as he looked down his nose at the man. Heavy sounded sincere about his surrender, but Hulk decided to make sure of it. One huge finger pressed Heavy down so he couldn’t even consider changing his mind. 

“All targets down,” Steve said over his comm link. Glancing over, he noticed Hulk had made two neat piles, one of weapons and one of bodies. Shaking his head in amusement, Steve continued. “And all weapons accountable. You can come in for clean up.”

Agents began pouring into the building in a matter of seconds. They reminded Steve of a colony of ants as they swarmed around him, Hulk, and Heavy, grabbing up the Chitauri weapons and dragging off unconscious men. 

As the others worked, Hulk leaned close to Steve without letting his captive up. Waves of heat rolled off of him as he loudly sniffed Steve’s wound and the sluggish trails of blood.

“Think I’ll live, Doc?” Steve joked. Two male agents approached them and after a short glaring match, Hulk let them take Heavy. 

“Watch out with him,” Steve warned as they cuffed Heavy and began to guide him away. “He could hold his own against me for awhile.”

He let out an undignified yelp of surprise as something rough and wet ran over his wound. Steve blinked slowly at Hulk, brow furrowed, then let out a short laugh. “Did you lick me?”

“Yep,” Hulk answered as he straightened, his expression saying it should have been obvious. “Promised me hot dogs.”

“That I did,” Steve admitted, but they waited until the agents left before setting off to hunt down a vendor.

It took a few blocks--mainly involving Hulk acting as transportation again--before they found what they were looking for. The middle aged man manning the cart gave them a wide-eyed stare then shrugged and asked what they wanted on their hot dogs. 

They got a couple each and when Steve tried to figure out how to pay, the vendor refused to hear it. 

“My niece would kick my ass,” he said with a chuckle and pointed at Hulk. “You’re her favorite. Gonna be Princess Hulk for Halloween.”

There was a second of confusion, as if Hulk couldn’t even fathom having fans, then he grinned broadly. “Nice. Tell her hi.”

“Sure thing, buddy. Hey, can I take a picture of you two with my phone?”

PR moments hadn’t changed over the decades so Steve was comfortable with the idea. Hulk, on the other hand, clearly didn’t have a clue what to do with himself. Steve quietly guided him through it and, once the vendor had his picture, the pair went to eat their food in relative peace.

‘Relative’ because they were starting to draw a small crowd. The people were keeping well back--not everyone was willing to get up close and personal with Hulk, it seemed--but Steve could hear them snapping pictures with their phones. 

He was working on his second hot dog when he noticed just how big the crowd had gotten. If they were quick about it, he and Hulk would be gone before their audience grew a big enough set to start asking anything ridiculous or insulting.

“You did good today.”

“You keep saying that,” Hulk rumbled in reply as he gave Steve an amused, sidelong glance. He was empty handed, food already eaten, and simply waited for Steve to make the first move to leave.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, well, you know how competitive Stark and I are. He’s already got a headstart in getting in your good graces.”

“Try chocolate,” Hulk flippantly advised with a snort. 

“Really?”

Hulk shrugged and pointed at Steve’s half eaten hot dog. “My first meal. _He_ likes chocolate, though.”

Steve nodded, filing that information away for later, then polished off the rest of his food. The pair were gone before anyone screwed up the courage to start questioning them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took longer than expected. Had a Murder Your Darlings moment that took out everything I had written in this chapter when I posted the last one. The sudden lack of Sitwell awesomeness makes me sad but I think this works better.
> 
> There's an Item 47 character but that's probably not obvious. I got the last name from the Marvel wikia so I don't know if the spelling is actually correct.
> 
> This hasn't been Brit-picked so please forgive mistakes. As usual thanks to [Mildly_Neurotic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Neurotic) and [ladybexodus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybexodus) for betaing.

There was always a moment of panic when Steve travelled the distance between Peggy’s street and the inside of her house. It didn’t have anything to do with Peggy. He still wasn’t used to her as she was now, but he accepted it. 

No, he was more worried about Mrs. Ellenby pouncing on him before he was safely hidden behind closed doors and Peggy’s icy glare. She wasn’t a consciously horrible woman, really, but she seemed determined that Steve was _exactly_ what her granddaughter Melissa needed.

Steve had met Melissa once. She’d been very nice, very pretty, and, thankfully, very much taken by the young woman she had brought along for the visit. Mrs. Ellenby had remained almost aggressively oblivious.

Peggy’s front door opened before Steve reached the porch. 

“She’s not here today,” Peggy assured by way of a greeting. She looked terribly amused by his plight. “Bake sale at the elementary school. It’s the only thing any of us have heard about for the last month.”

Steve tried not to look as relieved as he felt but knew he was failing miserably. “I’m sure it’s for a good cause,” he said and hurried inside just in case.

“Babysitter?” Peggy asked, waving at the woman across the street who was trying to act inconspicuous. If Steve wasn’t so hyper aware of Agent Wise, he might have said she’d succeeded.

“Mine and Bruce’s reward for busting up those robbers a few days ago,” Steve answered with a frown. “Apparently, Hulk listening to me twice makes us worth closer study. At least we got to pick who’s keeping an eye on us.”

Not that it had helped much. Steve might not like being under observation but he was used to it. The whole thing was setting poor Bruce on edge, though. So they’d advantage of Steve’s apartment being a ‘no go’ zone for all snoops and decided to play hermit for a while.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Peggy asked, after giving Steve a hug. 

“I can’t just want to see you?”

Smirking, Peggy sized him up. “Oh, you can and you do, but you’re usually polite enough to give more warning.”

“Sorry,” Steve muttered, fidgeting a little as he gave her a small smile. “Bruce had a guest. It, uh, seemed kinda private.” 

Steve had been all set for another day of drawing and coaxing Bruce to watch black and white movies with him when the knock had come. Visitors were rare so Steve had been expecting an agent who was feeling particularly brave that day. Bruce’s startled gasp of ‘Betty’ said something else entirely. 

Steve had thought it best to make himself scarce for a while.

Peggy made a soft noise of understanding then led the way to her study. After that fake forties stunt S.H.I.E.L.D. had pulled, the agents had worked to update Steve on all the things he had missed. Peggy had more or less taken over that task, much to Steve’s relief. He actually trusted her to tell the truth and she never got frustrated with him.

“I think it might be best if we shifted topics for today,” Peggy said, absently rubbing her hands together. 

Pausing in the middle of dragging a chair over, Steve gave her a surprised look. They didn’t normally jump topics like this unless there was some sort of problem.

“Am I dangerously close to someone slugging me for saying the wrong thing?”

Peggy laughed. “Potentially. Any big green fists try to send you flying lately. No? Well, I guess you’re safe.” She watched Steve with quiet amusement as he finished pulling up his chair. “Today, dear pupil, we’re going to discuss dynamic orientation.”

“Oh,” Steve said and tried not to feel strange about the coming conversation. 

Talking dynamics hadn’t been considered polite when Steve was growing up and serving. This wasn’t like when he had batted down Bruce’s attempt to scare him back in Stark’s office. That had been countering rudeness with rudeness, after all.

“Don’t have a heart attack,” Peggy teased. “My ears are hardly delicate. I’ve heard worse come out of my grandkids’ mouths.”

“Alright, alright, I know. Lay it on me.”

“I don’t think it will be a very long lesson. You were a pretty progressive thinker back then,” Peggy assured, smiling fondly at him. Age hadn’t done anything to stop Steve’s heart from skipping whenever she did that.

“Let’s see. You could say the sixties jumpstarted much of the way society thinks about dynamics now. It might have resulted in a horrible amount of pearl clutching, but actually talking about revealed quite a lot. For instance, the groundwork was laid for Switches and Adynamics to be acknowledged in the seventies and nineties, respectively.”

Steve’s chest ached as his mind drifted to a memory of him, Bucky, and an awful lot of alcohol fueled confessing. Between Bucky admitting he thought about taking orders as much as giving them and Steve maybe mentioning the fella at the corner store was _really_ good looking, it had been the sort of night that made or broke a friendship. 

He hated that Bucky hadn’t lived long enough to put a name to what he was and know he wasn’t alone. 

“Sorry, got a little maudlin,” Steve muttered after he noticed the worried look Peggy was giving him. “I’m fine. Keep going, please.”

She did but only after giving him a very thorough once over. “So, you already know that a person’s sex and sexuality don’t dictate their dynamic orientation?” She waited for Steve to nod. “Okay, so we’re going to focus on stuff you need to know so you don’t put your foot in it when you feel comfortable dating again.”

She waved away the noise of protest he made. “No no, you’ll thank me whenever that sweet person you eventually fall for doesn’t knee you in the groin.”

Steve considered denying it, but stopped as he considered who he was talking to. He’d seen Peggy deck a guy for getting smart with her and she’d had Steve on the business end of a gun and neither of those things had made her less amazing to him. Hell, Peggy being tough was a huge part of her appeal. 

So yeah, Steve probably _would_ go for someone who’d try to literally bust his balls for offending them.

“Well, for the continued safety of certain parts of my anatomy, please continue.”

“Right,” Peggy said, not bothering to hide the smugness. “One--and you probably already know this--bugger dynamic and date whoever you want. You’ll still get a few odd looks and grumbles if you end up with another Dom or an Adynamic, but they’ll be the minority. Most people can’t be bothered to care what you do.

“Two, collars aren’t for everyone, regardless of dynamic, so talk about it before doing anything drastic and embarrassing. And in this day and age, you won’t be seen as an evil, moraless degenerate if you do put a collar on someone you haven’t married first.

“Three, we,” Peggy said, and something about he inflection told Steve she meant Doms, “don’t get a free pass to be abusive sods anymore. I know you wouldn’t even without the legal repercussions but this has been one of the slower changes to take hold socially. 

“There’s still many people who think they have the right to bend someone completely to their will or lack the right to fight when it’s done to them. So, just be careful, Steve. Not everyone will speak up if you accidentally push them too far.” 

Steve nodded, thankful for the advice, but he would have done it anyway. Listening to the way some of the other boys had talked growing up had been a nasty, eye opening experience. Those whispered, hurried conversations hadn’t been about the girls they would marry, not really. No, they’d talked about wives like things, legal slaves who couldn’t complain about how badly they were treated.

It was beyond Steve how someone could _want_ to be so cruel. All he’d ever wanted was someone to take care of, not master.

He and Peggy spent another hour or so talking about things like safewords and kink negotiation. Steve quickly warmed to the conversation, going from finding it uncomfortable to actually kind of fun. Some of what they were talking about were new concepts to him, but he’d never actually expected to need any of the information. Before the serum, Steve hadn’t been seen as a good candidate for anything more intimate than a decent friend.

He wasn’t planning to put this new information to use anytime soon, but he liked the idea of researching it further. Steve suspected that, considering the topic, there was an accidental detour into the dark side of the internet in his near future.

That was okay. Steve kind of liked those detours.

The conversation drifted at some point so the lesson came to an end. Steve spent the rest of the visit just basking in Peggy’s company. It was strange talking to her about the man she married, her children and grandchildren. Strange and painful but it helped a lot to know Peggy’s life was full of love.

Steve left after lunch, stepping outside to find his Babysitter on Duty had either gotten better at hiding or had wandered off. Stark was waiting, assumingly for Steve, in front of the house in a convertible that was all slick curves and the promise of speed. 

“How fast does it go?” Steve asked as he hopped into the car. 

“Got a need for speed, Cap?” Stark asked with a huge grin as the car revved to life. If he knew Peggy, he didn’t show it. “We’ll take this beauty on the highway one day, and I’ll show just how fast she can go. But right now, you’re going home.”

“Gee, Dad, I was hoping to play with the other boys,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes as they sped off. “Any reason you’re dictatin’ where I’m goin’?”

Steve was pretty sure Stark was shooting him a look, but it was hard to tell with those dark glasses in the way. “Because Bruce is probably feeling down in the dumps and could use some comfort. And apparently everyone and their senile mother thinks it’s fun to go after Stark Industries now so I can’t do it myself.”

“Let me get this straight: you had time to wait around outside for me but not to comfort Bruce?” Steve asked despite being worried about _why_ Bruce was upset.

Stark gave him an angry smirk. Reaching into his pocket, he tossed his cell phone at Steve. “Know how to use that?”

“We had handheld receivers back then. Not exactly the same thing but it certainly kills the mystique.”

“Good. Call back the last number.”

Steve gave him a suspicious look but did it anyway. The person on the other end picked up on the second ring, ready for a fight.

“Tony, if you’re about to give some ridiculous excuse so you can abandon me to deal with these power hungry idiots alone, I will hunt you down,” Ms. Potts calmly threatened, sounding almost distracted but no less dangerous for it.

“Sorry, ma’am, this is Steve Rogers. I’ll be sure to pass the message on,” Steve promised, hoping the grin wasn’t obvious in his voice.

There was a pause then, “Thank you, Captain Rogers, and I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“No problem, ma’am. Goodbye.” Steve turned to Stark after he hung up. “She says she’s going to hunt you down if you don’t show up. I like her.”

“So do I,” Stark said with a happy little smile. “And that’s why I can’t go make Bruce feel better. She called about that meeting while I was waiting for you to come out and, you know, actually give me permission to be in your home.”

“Right. So care to clue me in on what’s going on with Bruce? And can you swing by someplace that sells chocolate?”

What Steve got was a pretty quick and dirty explanation, probably because Stark didn’t know all the details himself. Finding out that Dr. Ross was the General’s daughter added a whole new layer to the secondhand dislike Steve had picked up for the man. He understood wanting to protect someone you cared about but so few of General Ross’ decisions seemed rooted in protecting anyone, his daughter included.

It had been Stark who had pointed Dr. Ross where to look for Bruce. It didn’t shock Steve at all that the determined looking woman he had let into his apartment would walk right up to Stark and refuse to be turned away until she got the information she sought.

It sounded like the making of a storybook ending, but Dr. Ross being married put some tarnish on that shine. 

Despite Ms. Potts’ threat, Stark seemed reluctant to leave after dropping Steve off. Steve didn’t wait to see the convertible ride away, turning his attention to the ridiculously expensive chocolates he’d bought. Stark swore they tasted like Heaven, but Steve still worried Bruce wouldn’t like them. 

He found Bruce and Dr. Ross sitting on the couch, quiet and oddly intimate. They both looked drained but peaceful. Steve couldn’t help but think they made a beautiful couple despite their red eyes and blotchy skin.

“I’m sorry for how I barged in earlier,” Dr. Ross said as she stood, one of Bruce’s hands still clasped in her own. She gave Steve a small, sheepish smile. “I’m not usually so rude. I’ve just gotten used to having to barrel into things where Bruce and the military are concerned.”

Steve shook his head, smiling in return. “I understand, Doctor. I’ve done a lot of barreling in myself for a good cause.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Ross said, squeezing Bruce’s hand before letting go. It looked like it hurt them both to do it but they didn’t draw it out or hesitate. 

She walked up to Steve, hand out to shake and he took it immediately. “Thank me for what?”

“For not believing the lies my father tells about Bruce and Hulk,” she answered, anger and sadness flashing in her eyes. “And knowing they’re not monsters.”

Behind her, Steve could see Bruce ducking his head, his expression saying just how little he believed that. Frowning, Steve shifted his attention back to Dr. Ross to find her smiling sadly, as if she knew exactly what Bruce was doing. 

Steve felt a little lost when Dr. Ross left. He stood there for a moment, trying to think of something to say or do that wouldn’t seem trite. Bruce wasn’t really paying attention to him being awkward and hesitant so that was something at least but Bruce wasn’t noticing much of anything. He’d sort of shut down once the front door had closed, sitting blank and still.

Scrubbing his hands on his pants, Steve set the chocolates on the coffee table and sat on the couch. “Bruce?” He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder, gently squeezing. “Have you eaten yet?”

Bruce blinked slowly at him, unconsciously leaning into the touch. “No. I guess I should,” he muttered, brow furrowing.

“Okay.” Steve’s hand moved to Bruce’s curls. The scientist’s eyes slid closed and he made a soft, appreciative noise. “I’m going to heat something up. Won’t take long.”

Bruce nodded, eyes opening but they were already starting to unfocus. Steve frowned, worried, then it dawned on him. After Bucky died, Steve had had trouble going anywhere where there had still been lingering traces of Bucky’s scent. And Bruce’s sense of smell had Steve’s soundly beat.

“Okay, slight change of plan,” Steve said, even though he wasn’t sure Bruce heard him. “We’re going to do something my Ma used to do when one of us was feeling really stressed.”

There was a flicker of curiosity in Bruce’s gaze. By some unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about their pasts, never offered and never pushed. It seemed a good time break that tradition.

“You’ll see. Hold on.”

Steve bounced to his feet and headed straight for his room. He stripped his bed, gathering up the bedding and his pillow then dropped them on the living room floor. Going to Bruce’s door, Steve hesitated, knowing he was about to enter the other man’s territory. Trespassing would likely be worth it though, so Steve went in and repeated the process with Bruce’s bed.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked when Steve came back and started assembling the gathered materials to his satisfaction.

“Makin’ a fort. Ma was aces at it,” Steve answered, smiling at the interest Bruce was taking. “My best friend Bucky used to do it after her. Then we discovered alcohol.”

The laugh he got was weak but he counted it as a victory anyway. 

“You want to help?” Steve asked, hoping it would distracted Bruce further. It took a moment, but Bruce nodded and slid to the floor beside him.

“This is more like a nest,” Bruce said as he helped, a soft note of amusement in his voice. 

Steve laughed and shrugged as he fussed with a pillow. “Well, hedonists like their base of operation kind of fluffy. Ask Stark, he would know.”

Ah, that got a better laugh. Steve grinned. “Since nests don’t need roofs, I think this is good enough,” he said, inhaling through his nose. He still caught a thin thread of Dr. Ross’ smell, but it was mostly covered by Steve and Bruce’s combined scents. 

“You hop in and I’ll go get the food?” Steve suggested as he stood. He wasn’t sure Bruce would do it--he got difficult sometimes when something sounded too much like an order--but Steve heard Bruce shift onto the soft mound of bedding as he went into the kitchen.

It didn’t take long to heat up some leftovers, grab a bottle of water, and come back. He found Bruce slumped in the middle of the makeshift fort, staring blankly at a patch of fabric in front of him. His eyes flickered in Steve’s direction as he set the bottle beside the chocolates.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” Bruce asked as Steve handed him the food. 

“Nope,” Steve answered and sat beside him on the sheets. Bruce shifted over a little to give Steve more room but he didn’t go far. “Just cared for.”

Instead of answering, Bruce slowly began to eat. He shifted again, moving closer instead of away, so their sides brushed together with every breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the next chapter is what I think it is, it promises to be ridiculous. I should probably point out now that when not otherwise distracted, my Steve, Bruce, and Hulk are massive trolls.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to [Mildly_Neurotic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildly_Neurotic) and [ladybexodus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybexodus) for betaing.
> 
> This chapter is ridiculous and the boys are trolls. That's all the warning you get. *hides*

Sometimes, Steve had bad days. It was something of a secret, universal truth. Water was wet, people breathed air, and, sometimes--no matter how perfect people thought Steve was--there were days when he was practically trembling with the need to put his fist through a wall or cry himself sick.

He’d had a few bad days since the invasion, and the first time had been the worst because of Bruce’s reaction. Steve hadn’t done anything-- _wouldn’t_ have done anything--aside from walk into the living room, but it was like Bruce had a sixth sense for it. His dark eyes had widened for a moment before he’d muttered an excuse and holed up in his room. There had been honest fear in his gaze and spiking in the air, a haunted animal panic that had made Steve ache to soothe him.

Instead, Steve had gone done exactly what he was doing now: wreck a few punching bags in the gym. He wanted to ask, almost had a couple of times. But Bruce didn’t poke at Steve’s mental scars just to satisfy his curiosity, and Steve was going to return the favor. God help him, it was a relief to be around someone who understood what it was like to feel lost and ungrounded in a confusing reality. 

It took striking air to realize the latest punching bag must have gone sailing across the room at some point. Steve frowned at the opposite wall and took in the cracks that were growing larger with each launched bag. He wondered if anyone other than Fury would be brave enough to call him on the property damage.

“You ever glad you’re not the only screwed up one? Does it make you feel guilty?” Steve asked the room’s other occupant with feigned nonchalance. He lifted a new punching bag from the row beside him.

“Can’t say it does, Cap.”

About three weeks ago, Barton had appeared on the relatively short list of potential babysitters. Steve wasn’t sure how that had happened but Bruce seemed to be fine with it so Steve didn’t protest.

Barton had taken to leaning against the wall far to Steve’s left whenever Super Soldier duty brought them to the gym. He always remained easily visible and seemingly unarmed around Steve, but there was a tension in the casual lines of his body that said he would be ready for anything at a moments notice. He observed more than talked, but it always felt like being watched over instead of just watched.

Steve paused in setting up a new punching bag to give Barton an incredulous look. “Really?”

The smaller man shrugged and the right side of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Sane people don’t get into this business. I’d rather have back up than fewer people in need of therapy.”

Steve shook his head with a short, grim laugh then finished setting the punching bag in place. He didn’t think a person had to be crazy to want to do what was right. Putting on the getups was a completely different story though.

“Did you even volunteer for this? Babysitting?”

Barton actually smiled. It wasn’t a sweet thing, but it wasn’t the mean twist of mouth he sometimes wore, either. “Nope. I’m not allowed any heavy lifting until the head shrinkers decide I’m not going to crack during a real assignment.”

“So this is your only job now?” Steve asked. He stood poised, ready to strike the bag but his focus was completely on Barton.

“Unfortunately,” Barton answered. He shifted slightly. On anyone else, the motion would have been nonchalant. “They thought you’d feel more comfortable with a familiar face and everyone knows that kicking ass together makes us friends.”

Steve shot Barton a look that might have contained a small, unwanted smile before taking a punch. “And Agent Romanoff is busy.”

“Got it in one, Cap. Don’t ask me with what.” Barton spread his hands out in a beseeching gesture and amusement danced in his bright, observant eyes. “Above my paygrade. Especially now that I make everyone nervous.”

Steve flinched at the way Barton tapped the side of his temple with two fingers and the flat, unconcerned tone of his voice. The next punch landed harder than Steve had intended.

“None of it was your fault.”

Barton nodded slowly. His gaze was sincere, but Steve still saw the guilt when he glanced over between blows. It was humbling to know Barton allowed him to see it.

Stepping out of the way, Steve let the punching bag slow to a gentle swing. He put his hands on his hips and sighed, a little exaggerated, a touch melodramatic, and doing very little to hide his begrudging fondness. 

It was frightening how quickly and strongly he was latching onto the others. With Bruce it made sense. They were dangerously close to living in each other’s pocket as it was and the idea of Bruce leaving left him feeling vaguely panicked.

But Steve often found his thoughts drifting to Thor, hoping he was safe and handling his brother’s betrayal as best as possible. Or how Barton was dealing with the aftermath of being turned against his friends and colleagues, of having his thoughts twisted until he couldn’t even trust himself. Or if Romanoff had nightmares of being chased by Hulk or if Stark was going to get buried under the landslide of crap suddenly being thrown his way.

Steve cared and it was terrifying, but he couldn’t make himself hate it.

“You guys aren’t going to let me turn into a grumpy old man like I want, are you?” Steve asked despite having known for weeks that wouldn’t be allowed to happen. Fury couldn’t help poking his nose into Steve’s business.

“I’d pay to see you yelling at kids to get off your lawn with the suit on.”

Steve laughed. He laughed so hard that he needed to wrap his arm around the punching bag for support. And if the occasional tear rolled down his face, no one would know but Barton.

***

Romanoff didn’t babysit. She would appear like a half tame stray at his door, Barton nowhere to be found, and pointedly drag Steve out of the apartment. He didn’t always look forward to these visits, but he wasn’t about to tell a dame like that where to shove it.

Usually, they went to parks and restaurants or simply walked the non-damaged parts of the city. It was the sort of thing Steve would have done anyway, though occasionally he would brave watching a movie. The effects were interesting but he missed the cartoons and serials that used to play before the main attraction.

Romanoff was slowly maneuvering them down a busy sidewalk with her arm threaded through his, a tight grip on his forearm like Steve would try to escape. He did sometimes which always led to hours-long games of hide and seek. Those were fun times, just dangerous enough to be thrilling without shoving him back on some battlefield overseas.

Judging from the grip, today wasn’t a day for hide-and-seek.

“So, I’m going to go out on a limb and guess you have something specific in mind,” Steve said as they passed by a jewelry store. The window display of collars made out of precious metal left a knot of confused feelings in his stomach.

“You’ll like it,” Romanoff answered, not even taking her eyes off of whatever point she had chosen straight ahead of her. This was a woman on a mission.

Shoving down a pang of longing for Peggy, Steve let himself be led. “Last agent that said that to me was trying to get me to go fishin’ for Subs with him,” he quietly informed her, recalling the cheeky little bastard. Some of the agents were getting braver, but at least they still had the good sense to only push so far.

Romanoff’s smile was quick and fond. Her fingers lightly squeezed his arm before relaxing their grip. “I’m surprised any of them produced the spine to make the suggestion. They’re just trying to win the bet.”

“Bet?”

“One of the techs has started a bet on how much of a freak you really are and how long it’ll take for your freak flag to fly,” Romanoff said. Her tone was mildly disapproving but the curve of her mouth spoke of amusement.

Steve gave an exaggerated sigh. “Repeat that like I’m from a different era.”

“He thinks you likes your sex any way but boring, and now he’s taking bets on how long it’ll be before you prove him right.”

Steve considered being mad or disturbed by people talking about his sex life behind his back. Then again he was being toted as the American dream on steroids, and he had yet to publicly tarnish that image. Thinking Steve got up to things that would make Stark blush probably helped the agents avoid dying from excessive eyerolling.

“I’ll be sure to tell them when I start having sex again,” Steve said with a smirk, “but they’ll have to ask the other party for the details. Are you in on this bet?”

Romanoff shook her head then guided them around a corner. She nudged Steve over so they narrowly avoided a man in a suit paying more attention to his phone conversation than where he was stepping. She watched the man for a moment, and Steve wondered if he was a target or just some poor idiot who mildly annoyed her.

He squinted at her, trying in vain to figure her out. “Are you working right now?”

“Would you be mad if I were?” Romanoff asked, smiling. There was a feral gleam to her gaze similar to the look she got during their little game.

Steve would be lying if he claimed it didn’t make him like her more. “Not if you let me help.” He put a hand up to cover his left eye. “He’s not going to bust your chops for it if I do, right? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“I’m not working and we’re supposed to be going to the Museum of Modern Art,” Romanoff said, tone and expression reminding Steve of the stuffy librarian who had hated Bucky’s guts. Romanoff shot him a look of pure mischief then pulled out her phone.

Within minutes, Fury gave them permission to play a whole new game.

***

In the end, it was a little like The Avengers Reunion: Mostly S.H.I.E.L.D. Edition. Romanoff had led Steve to the pick up point, and there was Barton manning the jet. Steve didn’t bother to question it, just said his hellos to the archer and strapped into a seat.

Finding Bruce already fastened into one of the seats was pretty surprising though.

“I thought you were messing around in Stark’s lab,” Steve said, inhaling through his nose as subtly as possible. He smiled when he couldn’t find a trace of fear or panic in Bruce’s scent.

The scientist gave him a gentle, if slightly exasperated smile. “Agent Barton--”

“Clint,” Barton corrected, not bothering to turn around as he got the machine in the air.

“--kidnapped me from the apartment actually.”

“Consider it a team building exercise, Dr. Banner,” Romanoff said smoothly as she moved to lean over Barton’s shoulder. Her hand strayed on that strong curve for a moment, gently squeezing before turning her attention back to the other two men.

Bruce let out a soft huff of laughter. “Shouldn’t the rest of you be suiting up if you need my expertise as a giant, green rage monster?”

Steve looked around for a moment, thinking about that. There was no Stark and while the billionaire could have told them all to take a hike, Steve had his doubts about that. If this was Avengers business, the only person who should have been missing was Thor.

“There aren’t any monsters in the Avengers, Bruce. And I’ve got a feeling this is going to be less smash and more sneak,” he said but still shot Romanoff a questioning look.

The smile she gave him was beautiful and dangerous. “I sneak. You two,” she pointed at Steve and Bruce, “can smash all you want sans Hulk. I need a distraction and I’m not sure the target is bright enough to recognize you as such.”

Bruce laughed again. This time, it reminded Steve of the scientist’s larger counterpart, a different sort of dangerous than Romanoff.

“I’m game if you are,” he told Bruce. Steve didn’t realize how wide he was smiling until his face started hurting. He couldn’t help it though, not with the mischievous glint hidden behind those glasses.

Steve pointedly pretended not to see the tail end of the look the agents shared when he switched seats to sit next to Bruce.

Romanoff’s mission was a remarkably easy one, which confirmed Steve’s suspicion Fury had just thrown something their way to keep them all from going stir-crazy. A tech at one of the labs S.H.I.E.L.D. kept an eye on had stolen some sensitive data and was now on the lookout for a buyer. He sounded like a bumbling amatuer and hardly a threat on his own, but Fury didn’t want that data getting into what he considered the wrong hands. The tech was meant to be dealt with at a later point.

Romanoff was definitely overqualified for such a simple retrieval job. Steve figured this was the super-secret spy version of a fun, stress-free outing.

Bruce and Steve plotted together in quiet tones, heads bent close together like children conspiring. By the time Barton landed the jet--and with a little input from Romanoff on what she needed--they had cobbled together a plan to distract that was absolutely ridiculous. They’d probably get drummed out of every spy agency in existence just for mentioning it, but it was going to be pretty damn fun.

They were going to need Barton for this.

“I should really stay with the jet,” he said then all but thrust responsibility for the machine onto a waiting S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.

They all clamored into an inconspicuous vehicle, Barton behind the wheel with Romanoff in the passenger seat and Steve and Bruce in back. Bruce watched the nighttime scenery fly by for a moment before turning to Steve.

“You’re sure you’re alright with this?”

“I helped plan this, remember?” Steve pointed out. Normally, he’d get exasperated with being treated like he was delicate but there was something about the way Bruce said it. Like a friend concerned with limits and not an anxious adult afraid of ruining a sheltered child.

“I know.” Bruce gave him a small apologetic smile, peering up at him in a way that would have seemed shy if not for the gleam of his eyes. “Done this sort of thing often?”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, mussing it as he grinned. It might have widened a little as dark eyes watched him intentionally ruffle himself. “Nope, but I was a dancing monkey before they finally let me bust Hydra skulls. Might as well put my acting skills to use.”

“I’ve seen a couple of your films,” Romanoff drawled from the front. She peered around the seat into the back, blinking slowly at them. “If that’s the acting quality I’m to receive...”

“Like you could do better.” Steve scoffed but there was amusement in his voice. “No amount of acting--great acting, I might add--could save a script that tells you to punch out Hitler while wearing Star Spangled pajamas.”

Barton laughed and Romanoff smirked, but it was Bruce’s chuckle that Steve found himself focusing on. It was a quiet, tired thing just like the man himself, so easy to miss. Steve still hadn’t gotten a real laugh out of Bruce, something that wasn’t self conscious and easy to mask. He longed to hear it and imagined it to be an utterly graceless and wonderful sound.

_Oh_.

Oh, damn.

Steve spent the rest of the trip trying to act normal. Honestly, he should have seen this crush coming a mile away. 

Eventually they ended up at an amazingly cheap hotel where Romanoff’s thieving lab tech had hidden away while awaiting a buyer. There was already a room ready for them near the target. Steve silently wondered when one of the agents had called in the ridiculous plan they had hatched. Romanoff shoved a duffle bag in Bruce’s arms then shooed him and Steve off in the direction of the room.

They only got a few feet before a drunk woman stumbled into Steve. He nearly dropped the key she passed him before tottering off. His lips thinned as Bruce walked beside him.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Steve bounced the key in his hand before shoving it in his pocket. “She got grabby.”

“I’m going to have to get grabby. You might have to get grabby back.”

Steve leaned in close to make up for the size difference. It made Bruce twist to meet his gaze. Steve patted himself on the back for not turning into a lovesick puppy. “I agreed to that. I didn’t agree to having strange agents paw at my chest while pretending to be sauced.”

“True,” Bruce conceded. There was the flash of something like a smile on his face before he turned his head. “But how many people can say they felt up Captain America? She’ll probably be a hero back at base.”

“Then what are you going to be after this?” Steve asked, clamping down on his annoyance enough to keep the word from snapping.

Bruce took a moment to consider that, a wry smile gracing his face. “Lucky?” He gave a small shrug, hardly a movement at all from the usual slump of his shoulders. “I’m not going to kiss and tell, but I can’t speak for the Other Guy. He might end up smitten.”

Steve squinted at him. “Would being courted by Hulk involve having smashed things dumped at my feet? Cars, tanks, alien invaders, teammates’ brothers?”

“Aren’t those last two basically the same thing? And it’s better than poetry.”

Steve put a hand up to stifle his laughter as he opened the peeling door of the hotel room. The inside was nothing to write home about: ugly wallpaper, hideous bedspread, still lifes masquerading as art. And everything looked dirty because it was just that sort of place.

“I’ve been in worse,” Bruce said as he moved around Steve to sit on the edge of the lone queen bed. He dumped the duffle in the center and gave the other man an expectant look.

“So have I,” Steve admitted. He closed and locked the door then looked around. He had been in worse, sure, but he didn’t see how anyone would want to bring a lover to such a dump. It just seemed insulting, like they weren’t worth better. “What do you think is in the bag?”

Bruce stared at it, leaning away as though he was eying a snake. “I’m not sure. I’m a little afraid to find out.”

The duffel bag ended up containing clothing. Two sets, one in each of their size. Steve’s consisted of a black tank top, sneakers, and denim pants that looked far too tight. Bruce’s outfit looked much like the one he had worn the first time they met.

“Maybe we should be switching roles,” Bruce said as he eyed the pants Steve was holding up. Steve’s attention shifted to him in an instant, expression going from disbelief at the clothing to surprise at the other man’s suggestion.

“Why?”

Bruce stared at him like he had grown a second head then shot the clothes Steve was holding a meaningful glance. “You seem better suited for my role. I don’t think anyone is going to believe I’m, well...”

Steve scowled when he realized what Bruce was on about. He settled on the bed next to the other man, trying to judge what was the proper distance to keep between them for what he was about to say. Because Steve had been there when Hulk had changed back after dealing with Heavy, and while he hadn’t been _trying_ to stare at a naked Bruce, it had sort of happened anyway.

“Then they’re stupid,” Steve said, his tone allowing no room for argument. Bruce arched an eyebrow but remained silent. “You’re a good man. And you’re handsome, whether you believe it or not.” Steve looked around with a sheepish smile. “Not that this place says anything of the sort.”

Bruce shook his head, a look of disbelief on his face. He didn’t seem about to argue though. Apparently, he planned to let Steve keep what Bruce clearly believed were delusions.

“Should we be pretending to have sex?”

Steve fell back on the bed, hands covering his face to muffle his laughter. It made sense for the distraction, even if it was a step above and beyond. But loud, obnoxious sex absolutely fit with how loud and obnoxious they were going to be later.

Bruce was staring down at him, smile wider than usual, eyes glinting with mischief, and body shaking with silent laughter. He was probably waiting to see if Steve would die of embarrassment but the larger man just peered up at him through the gap between his fingers. When he got his laughter under control, Steve lowered his hands.

“Only if we open the comm so the agents can hear.”

The grin Bruce gave him was similar to the one Hulk had given Steve after getting permission to smash. It was feral like the looks Romanoff sometimes got, dangerous. It made him wonder what Bruce was like before Hulk. It also made him question himself: if he had always had a soft spot for beautiful, dangerous things, or if this was the onset of horrific bout of lovesickness.

“I haven’t done anything this ridiculous since I was a teenager,” Steve muttered, smiling the whole time. “Right. So I guess we bounce on the bed a lot and moan like whores. I promise to still respect you in the morning, Doc.”

“But will we respect ourselves,” Bruce asked, his tone sage and tranquil. It only started another giggle fit from Steve. Nodding, Bruce opened the comm.

“Something up?” Barton asked, his voice small and tinny over the device.

“Incoming rampant unprofessionalism,” Bruce warned.

“Revenge for the pants,” Steve added then tossed the duffle off the bed. Barton’s questioning noise was drowned out by the first harsh squeak of the bedsprings and an exaggerated moan.

“Natasha’s going to kill you two for this.”

“No, I won’t,” she denied immediately, startling the men in the hotel room. Her voice was sugary sweet. “But I am recording this and will play it at every opportunity. To very large audiences.”

Steve laughed. “Make sure you send a copy to Stark. He’ll snap his cap when he finds out I’m having more fun with his new best friend than he is.”

“He’ll snap a Cap, alright,” Barton shot back, not bothering to hide his amusement. He made a choking sound when Bruce joined in on the vocals. “We could have left a book or two if you were that bored.”

“This is way more entertaining.” Steve had to put the comm close to his mouth to be heard over Bruce’s tour de force performance of a man in ecstasy. It meant Romanoff and Barton got an earful of his snickering. “We’re not actually messing anything up, right?”

“Not at all. I could have done this on my own. I’m just letting you boys have fun.”

“Thanks. I was going stir-crazy,” Steve breathed, gratitude saturating his voice. Then he pushed the comm’s mouthpiece out of the way so he could join the festivities.

Eventually, he and Bruce ended up a couple of tired lumps on the bed. They were both on their backs with less space between them than strictly necessary, only a couple of inches to keep their arms from barely touching as they panted and laughed. Steve had to fight the urge to curl closer like he would have with Bucky.

“Amazing stamina, guys,” Barton drawled into his ear.

Steve glanced at the clock then laughed harder. They’d been at it long enough that Barton wasn’t just being sarcastic. “Serum.”

Bruce turned a little towards him, obviously trying to regulate his breathing but having a little trouble. His face was flushed and open, the world weariness disappearing for a moment of pure, unadulterated amusement. He looked so much younger and the beautifully graceless nature of his laugh only added to the illusion.

It struck Steve like lightening--quick, bright, and so painful it made his bones ache--how very fragile this moment was. As soon as it broke, the old Bruce would return with his sad tired eyes and empty smile.

Steve was determined to stretch the moment until it frayed and every last thread of happiness disintegrated.

“Thanks,” Bruce managed to say when he could suck in the air to make semi understandable words. “I needed that.”

“Fake sex?”

Bruce chuckled, his breath lightly puffing against Steve’s face. “The laugh. I don’t get many of those lately. You’re pretty good at pulling them outta me though.”

“Always happy to be of service,” Steve said instead of the million silly things that were floating through his head. Jesus, he was such a sap.

“We should probably get changed,” Bruce said and sat up. Steve could actually see him closing off again, replacing each brick with ruthless efficiency.

Steve grasped for a way to find a crack in that armor but nothing came. “You mean into those god awful pants.”

“Those too.” Bruce stood and gathered up his outfit. He took a step towards the bathroom then stopped and turned back towards the bed. Steve could see the last brick settling into place. “You’ll let me know if I’m pushing it, right?”

It was the tone that kept Steve from getting annoyed at being asked again. The tone was so much more serious and all encompassing than being worried that Steve couldn’t handle getting handsy with another man.

After a moment, Steve frowned. “One of these days you’re going to get it. How many times do I have to say it before it gets through that thick skull of yours?” He slashed a hand through the air, cutting off Bruce’s instinctual protest. “Okay, I’ll say it again. I’m not scared of Hulk. And I’m not going to treat you like you’re fragile or a monster. You’re good. Hulk’s good. I trust you both.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” Bruce muttered then fled to the bathroom before Steve could reply.

Scowling, Steve watched him go without uttering a word. He let out a low groan when the door closed and the shower started.

“Your crush is very sweet.”

“Fuck you, ma’am,” Steve muttered without any real malice. It wasn’t Romanoff’s fault that he clearly couldn’t take the easy route on anything.

“Go for it, Cap,” Barton piped up. There was a small commotion over the comm but nothing that sounded dire. “You’d make a cute couple.”

If Steve’s nose wasn’t so good, he’d have said something about not knowing if Bruce was even attracted to men, let alone him. What Steve didn’t know was whether those occasional spikes of interest were accompanied by something aside from lust. He’d told Peggy he wasn’t so keen about starting a romantic relationship any time soon, but the idea of having meaningless sex with Bruce left a sour taste in his mouth.

The sound of the bathroom door opening drew Steve from his thoughts. Bruce appeared in his new clothes, hair damp and glasses slightly fogged. He really did look like the first time they had met aside from being a little wet and his soft-looking curls were a little longer.

“I look like a teacher,” he said as Steve removed the earpiece and levered himself off the lumpy bed to get his own clothes. Bruce ducked his head when Steve shot him an amused look. “Hey, I love my style! I just look like I should be grading papers, not fooling around with you. Maybe everyone will think I’m your professor.”

“Don’t really care what anyone thinks, Bruce, so long as we get the job done and have fun doing it.”

He smiled at Bruce as he maneuvered around him and into the bathroom. It was grimy, suiting the rest of the hotel room in cleanliness, but Steve ignored it with the ease of someone used to living in less that classy accommodations.

Bypassing the shower, he stripped down and stared at himself in the dirty mirror. Even naked he looked like something out of the forties which made him want to smile even as it made him sad. He stared a moment longer then started dragging his fingers through his hair, trying for some style he’d seen in a magazine. He quickly gave up and aimed for looking like a rumpled mess.

The clothes came next, tank top first as he shot the pants one more condescending look before deciding to brave them. It wasn’t so much the tightness that bothered him--his suit, after all, was tighter--but like Bruce, Steve enjoyed his own style. The shirt was manageable. The pants, not so much.

Steve noted no one had thought to provide him with underwear to go with this outfit. And if he didn’t have any, maybe Bruce didn’t either. Then again why would Bruce wear underwear at all when it was just another garment to potentially destroy.

A few minutes may or may not have gotten wasted chasing that thought to a conclusion that _might_ have made Steve’s new pants even tighter.

There was a hard, ugly flash of panic at the possibility of upsetting Bruce if Steve couldn’t just will the problem away. Then it passed and Steve laughed softly, a hand running through his hair. They were adults. Bruce was not some shrinking violet or prudish maiden aunt. They would be fine.

Shoes on, Steve left the bathroom to weather the reaction. Bruce looked startled by the transformation as a whole--and a little turned on according to Steve’s nose--but the moment he caught sight of the other man’s crotch, Bruce let out a snort of a laugh.

“Problem?”

“Method acting,” Steve calmly assured, hands on his hips as he tried not to feel self conscious.

Glasses in hand, Bruce tread a slow circle around him, pausing for a moment at his back. The low level musk of arousal followed in his wake. “Someone had way too much fun with your attire.”

“Does it make my butt look big?” Steve asked with exaggerated concern, repeating a line he had heard while getting acquainted with the television. He twisted around to see then glanced up at Bruce who just chuckled and continued his perusal.

Once he assumed Bruce was done, Steve sat on the edge of the bed. He put the earpiece back in place, blindly gesturing for Bruce to stop when he moved to sit down. Steve gave him an apologetic smile, but his gaze was serious enough to turn the other man’s annoyance into curiosity. 

“Right. So while we still have time...” Steve cut off their end of the comm feed, receiving an amiable ‘We’ll update you’, and waited until he knew he had Bruce’s full attention before continuing. “We need to discuss boundaries.

“Despite what people insist on thinking, I’m not some blushing virgin. I’m not going to go ‘oh gosh’ and die of embarrassment or get violent if it gets intense out there. I might get a little red in the cheeks but nothing you do is really going to bother me.”

Bruce’s body language was very easy to read sometimes. At the moment, he was telegraphing interest and curiosity, openness rather than discomfort. He took a step forward, head slightly tilted and that scientist-gleam in his eyes.

“Really? Even if I--”

“Grabbed my dick?” Steve interrupted, eyebrows raised in question. He avoided the smile he wanted to give, all teeth and challenge, because it wasn’t right to take his feelings about people’s expectations of him out on Bruce.

“Yep. I was born with a body that didn’t fit my personality. I would have thrown myself off a building ages ago if I honestly let most things get to me.” He met Bruce’s eyes, locking their gazes. “But I’m trusting you not to do things just to see how far you can push me.”

Nodding, Bruce rocked back on his heels before settling. The gleam was gone, replaced by a murky layer of shame. “Don’t be Tony.”

“Exactly. Neither of us are science projects. I don’t push. You don’t push. But I need to know beforehand what you’re comfortable with.”

Bruce’s brow furrowed in confusion, but his gaze was turned inward. After a moment, he let out a huff.

“ _Don’t_ grab my dick,” Bruce said, but his expression and tone made it clear it was a question. His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I don’t really know. Having a snuggle party in your nest was the closest I’ve gotten to action in years.” Bruce held his hands up in surrender, suddenly a fidgeting mess. “Seriously. So I won’t get angry, but I can’t be held responsible for what else I do, okay?”

Steve nodded. So basically it was just steady on and don’t read too much into it if parts of Bruce really enjoyed the experience. Steve could do that.

This time, he didn’t stop Bruce from sitting down beside him. There was awkwardness there in the lines of Bruce’s body but not enough for him to flee the room. Steve lightly nudged Bruce to get his attention then slowly put his arm around Bruce’s shoulder, gaze taking in every shift of the scientist’s expression. Bruce stiffened at first but slowly relaxed into the touch with an almost languid looseness of limbs.

They were still like that, lost in that companionable touch, when Romanoff told them the target was leaving his room. The idea was ultimately simple. They were supposed to make a scene so Romanoff could tag the target with a tracker then rummage his room once he had left the immediate area. Steve and Bruce really weren’t needed, but it was a nice break from their version of the daily grind.

The first thing the pair did was practically stumble out of the room, hand in hand with Steve in the lead. They broke the relative silence with soft laughter, lovers sharing a private joke that involved Steve leaning closer than strictly necessary.

The target drew near as Steve settled a hand on Bruce’s lower back to guide him away from the room. The tech was a reedy young man wearing faded jeans, a t-shirt with some sort of logo, and the look of someone in over his head. His eyes skittered this way and that as he walked, and when they fell on Steve and Bruce, that ferreting gaze filled with disgust.

Steve gave him the finger, having to remember to use only one digit after spending so long in Europe, then pressed a kiss to Bruce’s shaggy hair. Bruce’s arm wrapped around his waist and they took a few shambling steps that didn’t really get them anywhere at all, especially not out of the tech’s path.

“What the fuck is this?” came screaming into the night backed with the proper amount of justified fury.

Steve and Bruce faked a startle, both too used to watching their surroundings not to have noticed Barton’s approach. The tech’s surprise was more genuine, but once his brain caught up, a nasty little smile was curling the corners of his mouth. Voyeuristic fascination was practically written across his face.

“Jack,” Steve said with a strained smile as he slipped from Bruce’s arm to slide in front of him. Steve raised his hands as if to ward off an attack from the quickly approaching figure. Warm fingers twisted in the fabric at his back, and Bruce’s breath ghosted across Steve’s exposed upper arm as the smaller man peered around him.

“Who the hell is he?” Bruce asked, tone softly incredulous but mostly confused. “Is he... Oh. Oh shit.” He tugged at Steve’s shirt and loudly whispered, “Maybe we should run.”

Steve looked as if he was considering it then shook his head. “He’s a really good shot. Don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“He’s _what_?”

“Jack, this isn’t what it looks like,” Steve said, seeming to ignore Bruce’s snapped words as Barton came to a halt just out of arm’s length.

The look Barton shot him could freeze a volcano. “No, this looks like prayer circle,” he drawled. “Is that the best you can come up with? Next you’ll tell me you were helping him across the street, and he tripped and fell on your dick.”

“Whoa there, princess,” Bruce piped up, pushing up on his toes to glare over Steve’s shoulder. “ _My_ dick. Which is amazing, thank you very much.”

“It fucking must be from the look of you. What are you, his fifth grade teacher?” Barton shook his head and turned his attention on Steve who looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. “Does he smack your ass with a ruler? If you want to be hit that bad, I could hit you with the car.”

“Because nothing says ‘I love you’ like vehicular manslaughter,” Bruce shot back, sickeningly sweet and obviously fake. He pressed up against Steve’s back, breath fanning over exposed flesh.

“See, that’s why I cheat on you. You’re scary. You’re crazy, and my sister says I never should have dipped my dick in that,” Steve said, tone and expression defensive as he forced himself and Bruce back a step. “I tried to break up with you, you know? Around Thanksgiving. But you had a carving knife and that look in your eyes, and I decided I like living.”

Barton spread his arms wide as if to encompass not just the area but the entire situation. The obvious question of how this seemed good for Steve’s continued existence was clearly written across his face. Bruce gripped tighter on Steve’s shirt and forced them both to take a step sideways as if they could crab walk to safety.

“He doesn’t have to worry about me killing him in his sleep,” Bruce said as he and Steve took another step. They ended up turned a little, and out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Romanoff lurking half out of the shadows. Judging by her grin, she was definitely enjoying the show.

“I don’t want to wake up next to a corpse. They stink up the room, get the sheets all dirty, and they’re hell to explain,” Bruce said with the sort of calm used to discuss the weather.

Barton and Steve stopped shooting each other glares to turn incredulous looks on the Bruce. He glanced at them both then shrugged. “You try teaching teenagers. No one walks away from _that_ sane,” he muttered before dragging Steve back in front of him. 

“I still won’t kill you in your sleep, and that’s a point in my favor. So, ha, I’m not the craziest person in this,” Bruce leaned back and looked around with a critical eye, “disgusting cesspool. Good to know you have absolutely no respect for me.”

“Funny how that didn’t cross your mind _before_ you got laid. But we’ll discuss that later, dear,” Steve shot back, the last word more mock than endearment. “After I’ve made sure Jack doesn’t get in touch with his ninja heritage by _knifing me in the gut_. Okay? Cool. Awesome. Don’t kill me, Jack.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Barton said with a snort. “I just want to mount your balls over the mantle.”

His sudden charge towards Steve made the target jump back a step. Romanoff used the distraction of Steve seemingly fending off Barton’s attack to disappear back into the shadows. There was a soft whine, the sound of something slicing through the air to bury itself in the unsuspecting tech’s flesh.

“Ow! Fucking bugs!” the man shouted, twisting to try to see what had hurt him. The violence of the motion knocked the tiny dart loose. It hit the ground with a faint click before being unintentionally ground under the tech’s foot.

Steve froze in his attempts to keep Barton at arm’s length, blinking at their audience as though seeing him for the first time. Steve’s expression transformed into horror, and a flush crawled over his cheeks. He was rather proud of that, even if it did take a lot of really dirty thoughts to manage it.

“Um. Shit. Just...” Steve trailed off, dragging Barton closer by his forearms. He glanced down at the smaller man, mischief glinting in his eyes even as Steve attempted a weak but charming smile. “We should talk about this in private. We’re...a little exposed at the moment.”

“You just don’t want people see you get castrated,” Barton huffed out. He was behaving calmer now, like the shock of being caught in this situation had jolted much of the anger out of him.

“Oh please, you love my balls where they are,” Steve said with a scoff. “You’re crazy, not self sacrificing. Look, let’s just go back to the room--”

“That still smells like stale sex, cheap detergent, and despair.”

“And talk about this like adults,” Steve finished, ignoring Barton’s interruption. He grabbed the smaller men and tugged them back towards the room. Barton put on a show, loudly grumbling and digging his heels but allowed himself to be guided. Bruce’s hand was warm and strong in Steve’s, and he didn’t protest when Steve tangled their fingers together without a thought.

The moment the door slammed closed behind them, Bruce pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder and laughed that wonderful, graceless laugh again. Steve gently pet Bruce’s side, smiling his own amusement at their silliness and how much Bruce was enjoying himself.

‘Cute,’ Barton mouthed at Steve from where he sat on the bed, a small knowing smile on his face. “So what do we do now?”

“You in on that bet about me being a kinky bastard?” At Barton’s laugh and nod, Steve smirked. “Well, if you’re up for people thinking you screw your teammates, call in, change the time of your bet, and start with the fake sex sounds. It’s time to--what’s the word; troll?--troll some people. You have to split the payout with me and Bruce.”

As Barton made the call, Bruce gave them both that bright, wild smile and dragged Steve over to the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

Steve stood in the middle of his living room, eyes closed and nostrils flaring as he inhaled slowly and deeply. Exhaling, he couldn’t deny that he was well and truly screwed.

There were serious disadvantages to having such a sensitive nose. The problem with bad smells was obvious, but at the moment, Steve’s issue was the exact opposite. 

Bruce smelled _good_. Good in a way that Steve was starting to suspect was combination of actual scent, bias, and instinctive recognition of a fellow super soldier. Three days ago, before Steve had wised up to his feelings, Bruce’s scent had just been oddly comforting. Now that Steve’s brain and libido had caught up to speed, soothing had turned into something else entirely.

It really didn’t help that since that mission, he and Bruce had discovered a newfound pastime of invading each other’s space. It wasn’t sexual despite Steve’s tendency to get an erection, just two seriously touch-starved people taking care of a need with someone they trusted. Bruce wasn’t exactly immune to Steve’s obvious reaction to him but, like the hellspawned little terror that he was, Bruce found it more hilarious than awkward. 

Steve opened his eyes, glanced around the empty living room and decided he really needed to get some fresh air. Bruce was taking full advantage of the lazy Sunday afternoon by sleeping off lunch, so Steve left him a note before leaving. He didn’t have a set destination in mind, just hopped his motorcycle and took to the road. 

The open air had the effect Steve was hoping for. He found his thoughts easier to sift through when they didn’t have a sexual slant to them, and he let himself drift as much as safety would allow. Distantly, he noticed the moment he entered Manhattan. Even though the roads had been cleared and construction was well on the way, Steve could still feel the wariness crackling all around him.

He didn’t bother to feel surprised when he found himself entering Stark Tower’s underground garage. Deciding to just go with whatever instinct had guided him there, Steve parked and made his way to the elevator.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” J.A.R.V.I.S. greeted as the doors closed behind Steve. “Do you wish to see Master Stark?”

Steve leaned against the back wall of the elevator, rolling his shoulders then neck before answering. “Seems that way. Nice to hear from you, J.A.R.V.I.S. Been doing well?”

A beat of silence followed. Steve didn’t think he imagined the edge of surprise in it. “I am, Captain. Thank you for asking.”

Yeah, definitely surprise.

“Is Mr. Stark free to see me? I’d hate to interrupt something important.”

“I have already informed him that you are here. And been informed in return that I am to lock the elevator down if you attempt to leave before speaking to him,” J.A.R.V.I.S. answered with a note of wry amusement. Steve laughed and nodded in response. The elevator smoothly came to a stop a moment later.

The doors opened up into a large, comfortable area that looked like the designer could decide if it was meant to be a lounge or a workshop. It fit together nice though, sleek metal meshing beautifully with expensive leather to create a space both functional and decadent. There were parts and half finished contraptions strewn across many of the raised surfaces of the workshop portion. They were clustered especially thick on the large half circle desk where Stark was half buried in projects. Sharp, brown eyes zeroed in on Steve as the larger of two robots slowly wheeled closer to the elevator.

“That’s DUM-E,” Stark said as the robot came into arm’s length of Steve. Its claw rotated shifted one way then the other, reminding Steve of a curious puppy. “And the other is U. Break them and I break you.”

“I’m not going to hurt your babies,” Steve assured, not even trying to make it sound like a joke. He knew what it was like to be protective of his creations, and they couldn’t even interact with him.

“I’m Steve,” he told DUM-E and gently shook the claw offered him. “And I’m apparently here to talk to your dad about the huge problem I’m having with my roommate.”

“What? I thought you guys were getting along great.” Stark scowled at him. He’d clearly decided that if anyone had messed up, it had been Steve. 

It wasn’t exactly wrong so Steve decided to let it go. “Okay, my problem isn’t really _with_ Bruce. More with the way I’ve been reacting to him since the mission with Romanoff and Barton.”

Stark’s whole expression transformed, shifting from a frown promising pain to an amused and knowing leer. Grabbing a rag, he wiped his hands and made his way towards the lounge area, clearly expecting Steve to follow him to the bar located there. 

“Hot for genius, huh? I can’t say I blame you. Geek is the new sexy.”

Steve made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat. He stopped over to greet U before joining Stark. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see what he thought was the start of a third robot.

“Making another one?” Steve asked, nodding towards the pile of parts and the inactive claw balanced on its peak. He perched on one of the stools in front of the bar and watched Stark pour himself a drink. 

Dark eyes flicked towards the pile in question then back. “Always room for more. And stop trying to change the subject. You’re supposed to be telling me about how you’re jonesing for my comrade in awesome.”

“Why am I even telling you this?”

Stark shot him a sharp, evaluating look. For a moment, Steve thought he’d made the other man angry. Then that lightning fast shift happened again and Stark just appeared vaguely exasperated.

“Because, Captain Oblivious, one, we fought an army together. Two, Bruce is my science buddy. Two and a half, I can maybe help you into his heart and constantly disappearing pants. And three, I bet I’m way more experienced in dating--okay, interacting with people I find sexy--than you.”

“Please tell me this isn’t going to end in a sex talk,” Steve begged, looking appropriately horrified at the idea. “I don’t _need_ a sex talk. I just...I’m gonna go nuts ‘cause he smells really good.”

Stark laughed. Of course he laughed. Steve had trailed off with a distraught groan and buried his face in his hands. He probably looked like a miserable teenager to Stark.

Laughter bubbled in the back of Steve’s throat. If he was the teenager, did that mean Stark was playing father?

Or maybe just bartender since he was nudging a glass towards Steve. It wasn’t going to do anything more than burn but he took the offering anyway.

“So, yummy smelling roommate is hard on your virgin sensibilities.”

Steve scoffed. “I’m not a virgin.”

That caught Stark up short. “But with guys--”

“Still not a virgin,” Steve interrupted and downed his entire glass. He rolled his eyes at the wide-eyed stare Stark was giving him. “Just ask if you’re going to.”

“Like I wouldn’t,” Stark shot back, too fast for it to be anything but an automatic response. He blinked slowly then shook his head. “Okay, spill because I can’t see you _not_ being the poster boy for abstaining ‘til marriage.”

The smile that crossed Steve’s face was small and bitter. “No woman wanted to marry me before the serum, St--Tony. No one wanted to get stuck with me as a husband or Dom.” His blunt nails clicked against the glass as he started an arrhythmic tapping.

“I’ve only ever been with two women. They weren’t anything alike but both times started the same: me getting the crap beat out of me defending them from goons. I didn’t do it for sex but that’s what ended up happening.”

The memory of losing his virginity left a bitter tang in his mouth. He pushed it aside, dismissing that brief time where he’d mistaken pity for affection. He thought of Frieda instead, remembering her soft mouth curved into a smile and dark eyes laughing with Steve rather than at him.

Stark opened his mouth then closed it after a moment of not uttering a sound. He swallowed, nodded, and sipped from his own glass. “And the men?”

“Man,” Steve corrected. “He just liked that I was small and easy to manhandle.” He quickly waved away Stark’s horrified look. “Whoa, no! Not like that. We were definitely using each other but I wouldn’t have gone back for more if I hadn’t liked it.”

Steve let out a laugh at Stark’s obvious shock. Grabbing his cell phone, Steve snapped a quick picture of the other man’s face and sent it to Bruce while Stark indignantly sputtered at being caught.

“Look,” Stark said after calming, “I’m not going to try to push you into getting into a relationship. Dad told me the stories. I know you’ve lost a lot of people, and it probably feels way too soon.”

Steve nodded. He’d been--still was--a little in love with all of them: Bucky, Peggy, his Commandos. Of course he loved them. After going most of his life being the butt of jokes, being the guy almost no one thought would amount to anything more than a punching bag, their faith in him had been balm on wounds Steve had been trying to ignore for years.

And now nearly all of them were--

Steve ruthlessly cut that thought down, acutely aware that he was breathing too fast. Stark’s expression was sympathetic and oddly understanding, but he didn’t say anything until Steve got himself under control.

“All I’m saying is, when you both feel up to trying again, Bruce really wouldn’t be a bad place to start.”

Steve sighed, eyeing the smooth surface of the bar before meeting Stark’s gaze. “That was really profound. Did you get it off the back of a cereal box?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Stark grumbled, but he was clearly trying not to smile.

“That would make things really awkward between Ms. Potts, the lieutenant colonel, and myself,” Steve placidly pointed out. “And I knew your father when he was younger than you. You plus sex equals me feeling like a creepy old man.”

“You _are_ a creepy old man! Jesus.” Stark flapped his hands as if trying to shoo the mental images away. “Okay, slight diversion in subject. Bruce has a Hulk.”

“Um...yes?”

Stark just stared at him as if through will alone he could pound whatever point he was trying to make into Steve’s head. He made an exasperated noise when Steve gestured for him to continue.

“Do _you_ want a Hulk? Have you thought about the fact Bruce has this whole other guy inside him? Like really thought about it?” Stark asked, alcohol spilling over the edge of his glass as he gestured. “If you eventually go for it, we’re basically talking a threesome in two bodies and uh, what if the Big Guy wants some of what Bruce gets?”

“Oh. Then he gets it,” Steve answered with a shrug, hands spread as if to say ‘what are you going to do’. His tone was careless, but Steve had actually considered that prospect before now. “Hulk’s kind of cute when he’s not wrecking stuff.”

Stark cocked his head and thoughtfully narrowed his eyes at Steve. “You’re either really laid back or really kinky.” 

“Probably a whole lot of both,” Steve admitted with a touch of amusement. 

Honestly, he was both wary and curious of what would happen the next time Hulk came out to play. Bruce might have thought the newest development in their friendship funny, but he never actually addressed the issue. Hulk, on the other hand, didn’t strike Steve as someone who would beat around the bush about it. There was no way of knowing what would happen, but Steve was pretty sure they could handle the matter calmly.

He was curious about what Hulk liked. If Hulk even knew, or he was still discovering things like that little by little on the few occasions he was in control. Steve also wondered how much Bruce remembered of those times, how well, and if he was more terrified of the complete loss of control over his body or Hulk potentially hurting people.

Then Steve found himself considering what it would mean if Bruce ‘cured’ himself of Hulk, all the potential methods and the implications behind them. It left a hot, confusing ball of contradictory emotion in Steve’s gut that he had no hope of unraveling or deciphering.

Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Steve stopped just short of grabbing and breaking Stark’s hand on instinct. 

“Zoning out on your host is so rude, man. Are you thinking about sex?”

“Prefer it if I was,” Steve admitted with a roll of his shoulders. 

Stark made a soft noise of agreement that sounded anything but believing. “Thinking about sex is what got you slouching around my workshop to begin with. What are you planning to do about Bruce being Steve-nip?”

“Nothing. It’s gotta calm down eventually or I’ll just get used to it.” And until then, Steve was going to not overstep all those boundaries between them he sometimes wished weren’t there.

Stark gave him a sympathetic look and a decisive nod. “Come on. Let’s make something that can actually get you drunk.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding a PTSD tag. Really should have added it sooner considering who I'm writing. Life hates these poor guys.

“Tony’s threatening to fight for custody,” Bruce said after getting off the phone with the man in question. He sat next to Steve on the couch, smiling when Steve didn’t even look up from his drawing. 

“He’ll lose,” Steve assured as he carefully pencilled in the laugh lines at the corner of Peggy’s eyes. “I’m the more responsible parent.”

Bruce’s nostrils flared as his eyes flicked towards the door. If Steve strained a little, he could hear the agent on duty quietly shuffling in the hall. It was the boldest any had gotten so far. The slow encroachment was making both Bruce and Steve tense. It was impossible for them to forget that no matter how nice everyone was acting--for spies and assassins anyway--there was still a medical team lurking in the background just waiting to get their hands on them.

“He has Pepper,” Bruce pointed out. “Lawyers line up to let her eat them for breakfast.”

Steve shaded the curve of Peggy’s lips, the fall of shadows cast by her nose. “She has her hands full with Tony,” he countered, still a little amazed that he no longer thought of the other man as Stark. “There’s no way in hell she’s going to play mother to two science-obsessed men that have to be reminded to eat, sleep, and bathe whenever something shiny makes them lose track of time.”

“Genius is often detrimental to self-preservation,” Bruce mused and slid a little closer. “Who’s she?” 

“Peggy Carter. She called the night you came to stay.” Steve shifted, his thigh brushing against Bruce’s. “The first time I saw her, she knocked a lunkhead flat to the ground for getting uppity with her.”

Bruce chuckled softly and tilted his head for a better look. He’d stumbled across Steve sketching Hulk munching a hot dog almost a week ago. Now he sort of perked up and took notice anytime Steve pulled out a pencil. Whenever Bruce flipped through the sketchbook, Steve didn’t think he imagined the way Bruce quickly moved passed sketches of himself but hesitated on Hulk. 

“What do you think they do with those sketches of Coulson?” Bruce asked, shifting his gaze to the kitchen. Steve had placed the latest one on the counter last night before bed, a silent offering to their nocturnal visitors. This morning, they’d found a thank you note written in Barton’s cramped handwriting and baring the elegant swoop of Romanoff’s signature.

It should have been creepy knowing they were randomly moving around the apartment while he and Bruce slept. Steve felt protected instead, and Bruce tended to curl up in the spots still heavy with the agents’ scents like a cat in a shaft of sunlight. 

“Probably the same thing we did during the War: keep the reminders close, mourn, and try to make the friends we lost proud,” Steve answered. The rumbling of his stomach made him set his sketchbook aside. He stood, tensing as their babysitter loudly shuffled in the hall. “Wish he’d go away. He’s starting to make me feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

Bruce hummed in agreement and followed Steve into the kitchen. “You should go do something to earn that guilt. Like a striptease in a church.”

Steve let out a fake scandalized gasp as he pulled things out of drawers and cupboards. He pointed at a large pot. “Wash that for me, you godless heathen.”

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it. I’ve done some incredibly strange but fun things while young and drunk off my ass,” Bruce said then smirked. “And you do realize most of your teammates fit that description, right? Those of us that aren’t actually gods, anyway.”

“We don’t discuss whatever’s going on with Thor. My brain can’t wrap around it just yet.” Or a lot of other things, like how Tony was practically Howard despite the family issues and trying to adjust to both a new era and being back on American soil after so long abroad. 

“That’ll make him sad,” Bruce warned. He washed the pot and everything else Steve handed him with medical efficiency. “It’ll probably lead to a lot of back-breaking hugs. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“Then I’ll be sure to push you in his path. I think he carries a torch for you since Hulk put him on the ropes, anyway,” Steve shot back as he grabbed a freshly washed bowl.

“I’m sure Dr. Foster will find a way to kick his godly ass if he tries anything.”

The list of things Steve knew how to cook was limited so he went with mac and cheese. It was one of the first things he’d learned to scrape together after he and Bucky had gotten a place together. Bruce usually made something fancier when it was his turn to cook. Not dishes from the countries he’d been to but definitely inspired by them.

They moved together with an ease born of familiarity. It was soothing in a way, refinding that rapport with someone after losing Bucky and the Commandos. Steve hadn’t expected it to be nice, hadn’t expected it to do anything but scrape along frayed nerves.

Because they’d all been great, even though Dum Dum had been as blunt as a hammer and Steve hadn’t been able to understand Jacques without Gabe at first. Sometimes there’d been serious problems, but those had been with other people, people who thought they could push Jim and Gabe around. Monty had grinned like the devil the first time he’d knocked a man out for calling his teammates out of their names.

Steve flinched, lungs aching from how fast they were trying to pull in air.

“Steve, I need you to breathe.” Hands rubbed along his back, along his arms then grabbed his wrists. “Come on, Steve, breathe.”

He was being dragged back and down. A chest pressed tight against his back, heartbeat strong and hypnotic, arms wrapped tight around his ribs. Lips brushed his ear and ghosted air across his cheek.

“Can you feel me breathing?” that calm voice asked, vibrating through his back. 

Steve focused on it, swimming back to awareness at a sluggish pace. Eventually, he roused enough to turn his head. His nose brushed a chin then a cheek before he leaned away enough to see Bruce’s face. The scientist’s expression was at odds with his tone, worry etching his features and his eyes a brilliant, intense green. Steve liked that green. He wondered if he could replicate it.

“Hey. Can you feel me breathing?” Steve nodded. “Try to match it, okay? Breathe with me.”

Steve tried. He buried his nose under Bruce’s ear, ignoring the discomfort of the position, and tried to copy those long, slow breaths. He heard the rattle of a key in a lock then footsteps approaching as Bruce tensed.

“Dr. Banner, please release Captain Rogers,” the agent ordered. Steve let out a weak laugh at the chances of him being obeyed. “I can han--”

Bruce didn’t say a word, just shifted his focus to the man invading their space. The agent froze like a prey animal being stared down a predator.

“Go away,” Bruce said, voice low and calm. The frightened agent couldn’t obey fast enough.

Steve’s brain felt like it was trying to dogpaddle through a tub of molasses. It took a moment, but he still thought he deserved some applause when all the clues finally slid together to form a picture.

“They were waiting for this,” Steve said, sounding drugged.

“Probably,” Bruce agreed. He ran fingers through Steve’s hair. “You were bound to have a panic attack or flashback eventually. Even you can’t avoid the shit end of PTSD forever.”

“Well fuck. Can we not do that again?”

Bruce let out a shaky laugh. “I know you’re okay if you’re cussing. Agent Nanny can add it to his list of impossible things he’s witnessed through the peephole.”

“Regale the masses,” Steve agreed, tired but still trying to match Bruce’s breathing. He blinked slowly, frowned. “My hand hurts.”

Bruce relaxed his arms and gently took hold of Steve’s left wrist. Pain radiated along Steve’s fingers and over his palm.

“You burnt yourself,” Bruce explained as he inspected the damaged flesh. 

Steve spared a glance and decided he’d had worse. It would be healed by nightfall, if not within the next two hours. 

“The food...”

“No clue if it’s beyond saving,” Bruce said with a slight shrug. “If you’re up to it, we can go check. We need to do something about that hand anyway.”

Steve proved to be a little wobbly on his feet, but he was able to stand on his own. That didn’t stop him from leaning against Bruce and accepting a supporting hand on his lower back. 

The food was a lost cause, so Bruce multitasked by attending to Steve’s hand while ordering the whole menu from a decent thai takeout. Bruce never asked where Steve’s money came from, and Steve never volunteered the information. It still felt strange knowing Howard had left him one hell of a windfall on the extremely off chance Steve was still alive.

They sat together on the couch, thigh to thigh as they waited for the food to arrive. They talked about nothing in particular, terrified of treading emotional landmines but needing to chase away the silence. The agent was still lingering outside and they were both acutely aware of his presence no matter how quiet he tried to be.

Sometime later, Steve heard footsteps approaching, one too many sets to be the delivery guy. There was pause outside the door, and the agent tried to stutter out a denial in response to some silent accusation. Steve knew who won the argument when only one set of footsteps retreated down the hall and a knock followed.

Steve tried to rise to answer, but Bruce lightly pushed him back down. Peeking through the peephole, Bruce snorted and opened the door so Barton and Romanoff could enter.

“We’ve got guests. They have our food so I guess we shouldn’t give them the boot just yet.”

Steve grinned ear to ear. “Nah, they’re keepers. Fury tell you or were you listening at the door when the other agent called in my little spell?”

“Nat spied,” Barton answered as he dumped his burden on the counter. “I was told because Fury knew I’d pester him otherwise. Did you buy out the whole joint?”

Romanoff deposited her own bags then swooped down on Steve with a determined look. She took his face in her hands and searched his features. “You are alright?” She smiled when he nodded, pressed a kiss to his forehead, and went to help Barton and Bruce with the food. “Tony will probably arrive in an hour or two. I think he’s abusing the Iron Man suit again.”

“You invite the whole gang?” Steve asked with a huff of laughter as he stood. He wanted to be annoyed that there was an invasion occurring in his apartment, but he thought this was exactly what he needed.

“Can’t manage Thor. He’s still attending his family reunion in the sky,” Barton answered, eyebrows arched. His face was its usual blank mask but there was a touch of annoyance and worry in the curve of his mouth and the corners of his eyes. 

Steve placed a hand on Barton’s shoulder and lightly squeezed, trying to relay that he understood and empathized. He was worried about Thor too.

“The good doctor scared your shadow so badly that I don’t think anyone but Clint and I will be willing to do the job while he’s here,” Romanoff said, pointedly not looking at anyone as she moved around Steve’s kitchen with easy familiarity.

“That’s the way I prefer it, Agent Romanoff.” 

“I’m Natasha. Sometimes Nat but Clint’s the only one who calls me that,” she said, poking Steve in the side before handing him a plate and some utensils. She pointed at Barton. “And he’s Clint. Drop the formality, soldier.”

“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am.” Steve gave her a mock salute. 

He piled his plate high after Bruce had done the same, already filling with guilty pleasure at knowing he was allowed to eat it all. Their guests didn’t make a move to join them. Bar--Clint shrugged when he caught Steve’s gaze.

“We know better than to get between you two and food,” he joked, seemingly content to watch them stuff their faces.

Steve and Bruce were polishing off the last of the food when Tony arrived. He let himself in with a key he absolutely didn’t get from Steve. He arched an eyebrow at Tony, mouth too full to question out loud what the hell just happened. 

“Keep calm and carry on, Cap. It isn’t my fault the super secret spy organization is so easy to steal from,” Tony said, hands in the air as if to ward off attack. “You should really tell Fury to fix that. He knows I’m just going to take advantage.”

Tony zeroed in on Bruce like he always did before anyone had a chance to comment. For a little while, Steve tried following their conversation but soon gave up. He could actually understand a lot of the science stuff after having it explained--a fact that delighted Bruce to no end--but Tony tended to ratchet conversations up to breakneck speed when talking shop. Bruce’s usual slow and steady always went out the window just to keep pace, turning the whole thing into a volley of huge words that was more entertaining to watch than attempt to figure out.

This was Steve’s team now: a couple of super geniuses, a couple of spies-slash-assassins, and an absentee maybe-god. He’d been in fistfights with a guy with a bright red skull for a head, but he still hadn’t seen this coming. If felt a lot like a dream--everything had since waking, really--but it was fun in a way that was horrible and messed up but slowly getting better.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took forever. But hey, it's a Hulk chapter! That makes up for the wait a little, right? The differences between the way he talks out loud and in his head are intended, by the way. This chapter gets kinda icky too. Giant monster fights can get messy.
> 
> I'll be participating in Camp NaNo again next month just as soon as I decide what I'm doing. Choices are between some probably (kinda) dark werewolf Steve fic or as much of a series of connected Avengers oneshots as I can get done within the month. Decisions, decisions. I'll still be working on this though. This is my baby.

Hulk wasn’t a fighter for all occasions. He could be delicate when he wanted to be--he rarely did--and could think his way through most obstacles--’Too smart for my own good’ was practically the Banner family motto--but he preferred the direct and brutal approach. That tended not to go over well for anything short of alien invasions or something just as ridiculous.

It made for an excellent barometer of mission danger though. On a scale from one to ten, ‘release the Hulk’ meant the situation was cosmically fucked. 

In this case, ‘cosmically fucked’ appeared to be the result of an unholy union between an Eldritch abomination and a craft store’s entire glitter aisle. The situation would have been hilarious if the creature wasn’t trying to eat its way through a tiny Midwestern town’s entire population.

The blame was placed squarely on a handful of scientists who had been working in a nearby facility before their creation turned them into appetizers. Hulk was caught between being relieved and annoyed that they weren’t dealing with actual insane, Lovecraft-worshipping cultists. On the one hand, it probably meant no future visits from Cthulhu himself. On the other, it presented yet another sound argument for why some people shouldn’t be allowed near a chemistry set.

The team--minus their missing god--was getting unlikely aid from one of the three surviving scientists. Dr. Murray seemed more upset by the potential death of her Bedazzled Old One than her dead coworkers, but that hardly surprised Hulk. She had the same manic gleam of possibility that he had often seen pasted across Ross’ smug face. 

Bruce had tolerated Dr. Murray’s presence with tension and strained politeness. Hulk didn’t even pretend not to find her repellant. She had been kicking his fight or flight instinct into high gear ever since the first considering, clinical glance his way. 

Hulk focused on the task at hand instead of the fight raging on inside him. Tony was acting as bait, ducking and maneuvering around flailing tentacles, leading the creature away from one of the more densely populated pockets of the town. It went easily, aggressive in a way that gave Hulk an excellent idea of why it had been created. He swallowed the bitter tang of hatred that filled his mouth and softly grunted in agreement at the jagged note of rage that jolted along the edge of his consciousness.

 _It’ll get handled_ , he promised Bruce who easily but reluctantly settled; jittery with anger and adrenaline. Hulk knew he hadn’t lied. Steve and Tony weren’t terribly impressed by Dr. Murray and her coworkers either, and Hulk couldn’t wait to watch that particular dressing down in person. 

But first thing first. Hulk let out a low rumbling laugh as Tony zipped passed him. He planted his fist right between the creature’s violently red eyes, knocking it back a few feet before a spike-lined tentacle could grab Tony’s legs. Twisting midair, Tony fired an amplified repulsor blast just over Hulk’s head. One of the tentacles snapped up, blocking the attack from hitting the creature in the eye but taking the full brunt of the damage. For a delirious second, Hulk couldn’t help but note that the blood pouring out the ravaged appendage looked a lot like clear glitter gel.

“Was this thing designed by a five year old?” Tony asked over the comm they had talked Hulk into wearing. He sounded equal parts horrified and offended. 

“ _That’s_ what you’re concerned about?” Clint shot back, the pained strains of his voice nearly masking the sound of an arrow notching. “That stuff smells horrible. Any way we can do this without making it bleed everywhere?”

Hulk didn’t wait for the response. His job was to pummel at the unnaturally hard exoskeleton covering the majority of the creature’s body until it broke. After that, it was up to the others to hit the thing with everything they had--the jet’s weapons included--while Hulk helped Steve free trapped citizens and make sure no one else got smushed.

Bruce sang in the recesses of Hulk’s mind with each jarring punch. The ragged, flying trills of aggression and excitement spurred Hulk on, made him put more force behind the blows even though he could feel the skin around his knuckles wanting to split. He knew better than to let that happen and risk more lives with the toxic spill of his blood, so he switched tactics, ripping an abandoned van in half and turning the segments into makeshift boxing gloves as Tony zipped around destroying more tentacles.

The weakened shell of armor eventually split with a wet crunch, releasing the horrible sweet-spoiled smell of decay and bad blood as the tender flesh of the creature was exposed. Hulk reeled back, grumbling in displeasure as he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and stumbled out of the line of fire. 

“Jesus, that’s awful!” Steve groaned when Hulk reached him. Hulk grunted in agreement and shifted the section of broken wall Steve was straining to lift. They uncovered a woman and two small children, dirty and terrified but miraculously unharmed aside from a few minor scrapes and bruises. Hulk watched them scamper off with one of the cops who had stayed behind to help, then turned his attention on Steve.

“Good job,” he told Hulk just as Natasha started hammering the creature with the jet’s heavy artillery. Hulk grinned, unashamed of the pride that welled in him. Bruce, on the other hand, seemed caught between a croon of delight at the praise and a sour note at their response to it. Hulk chuckled at him, grinning wider at the confused glance Steve shot him before moving to help more people.

It didn’t take long for their teammates to put an end to the threat. The smell was horrific. Tony was already thinking out loud about how to deal with it. Hulk easily followed the suggestions and the science behind them but kept his thoughts to himself as he helped the team search for more citizens.

When neither Hulk’s nose or Tony’s sensors could find anyone else, they retrieved Dr. Murray from her guarded jail cell and returned to the lab. Even surrounded by people who could snap her like a twig, Hulk found the woman threatening. He maintained his distance, making sure at least one of the others were between them at all times as she guided them through the wrecked building. That person was usually Steve since he seemed to sense Hulk’s discomfort and kept relatively close as a result. 

The large room where the samples were kept was still intact and frigid from the constant blast of chilly air pouring out the air conditioner. The shift in Steve’s scent was noticeable before the door had even closed, the bitter tang of fear immediately drawing Hulk’s full attention. Steve had told Bruce once, while curled up in the nests that had become more frequent since Steve’s attack in the kitchen, that he’d been awake in the ice. Not constantly, not even often, but enough to leave one hell of a bad impression.

With a low displeased rumble, Hulk shifted closer to Steve. His hands settled, palms down and flat, on the cold floor on either side of the smaller man. Steve startled slightly, glancing down at the darkened green flesh of Hulk’s bruised knuckles before turning to give Hulk a confused and slightly dazed look.

“Wha--” Steve began to ask only to be interrupted by a purely animal sound of wariness. Tony’s head swiveled his way, but Hulk’s attention was on Steve, whose eyes widened as his brow knit in incomprehension.

After a second, Steve’s expression cleared. His gaze was still touched with confusion, but he hesitantly rested a hand on Hulk’s upper arm. 

“It’s okay,” Steve assured like soothing a spooked animal as Natasha pointedly turned Dr. Murray’s attention back to explaining the samples. 

Inside, Hulk and Bruce laughed at the idea of being gentled. Out loud, Hulk let out a low, almost purring rumble as Steve’s touch became more certain, the thick material of his glove pleasantly sliding against the skin of Hulk’s shoulder and neck. Steve made a very soft sound of realization as Hulk shifted closer, carefully bracketing Steve in so more of Hulk’s scent and body heat bathed him.

Steve practically glowed with gratitude and affection.

“Thanks for letting me save face,” he muttered so quiet only Hulk could hear him, hand finding its way into short, dark curls. He chuckled as Hulk leaned into the touch, fingers flexing against the ground before gently curling around Steve’s boot heels. Bruce made a drugged sigh of contentment at all the secondhand sensation he was experiencing.

They presented an intimate picture. Maybe too intimate, but Murray thought of Hulk as little more than a human-shaped animal and probably expected the same of others. To her, it was nothing more than keeping a useful pet docile and agreeable. The subtle, smug looks Natasha and Clint occasionally shot the pair said they weren’t the least bit fooled. Hulk had no clue what Tony’s faceplate was hiding, but he could hazard a guess.

Agents finally showed up to confiscate Dr. Murray and strip the lab of any remaining data and materials. Tony was making his own copy of the files, so the whole team stayed. Hulk and Steve remained as they were, ignoring the junior agents’ badly concealed stares. Their behavior really didn’t matter when a large part of S.H.I.E.L.D. already thought Bruce and Steve were screwing.

They left the building as soon as Tony was finished, Clint and Natasha staying behind to supervise the progress inside. Steve fully relaxed when they left the cold, but Hulk stuck close anyway, far more comfortable with the magnetic pull towards Steve than Bruce ever was.

“So,” Tony drawled as soon as they were out in the open again, flicking the faceplate up to smirk at them, “you two adorable kids wanna get a room to make doe eyes at each other in?”

Steve rolled his eyes, indifferent to the teasing. “No, but some space would be nice.” He made a shooing motion, and Tony cackled at him while flipping him off.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“At least that’ll be a short list to memorize,” Steve shot back, tone and smile deceptively pleasant. Hulk suspected Steve would have returned the rude gesture if he wasn’t in Captain America mode.

Tony offered them a sloppy salute before taking to the air. Shaking his head, Steve looked up at Hulk.

“Thanks again,” he said, gaze fond. He lightly tugged at Hulk’s hand, coaxing him to bend down. Hulk made a quiet, rolling sound of surprise as Steve wrapped his arms around his neck.

“You two are wonderful,” Steve muttered against Hulk’s temple before pressing a kiss there.

Hulk melted, too touch starved and rooted in instinct to feel embarrassed at his reaction. Bruce seemed intent on ruining the moment with the thread of anxiety weaving through his otherwise blissed out response.

 _Stop it_ , Hulk admonished, annoyed. _I swear on the gods I beat the crap out of, if you don’t stop overthinking I’ll..._

He trailed off once he got the low bell-like tone of laughter he was looking for. He hadn’t had a specific threat in mind anyway. 

_It’s okay to accept this. A hug won’t break us _, Hulk pointed out, gentler this time. Bruce wasn’t fragile by any means, but he tended to answer aggression with more aggression even if it was carefully hidden behind an air of calm.__

__“Someone might take a picture,” Hulk pointed out once the hug had stretched from friendly affectionate to dangerously like cuddling. It was a very Bruce thing to say. Hulk personally didn’t get why spontaneous hugging in the streets wasn’t more popular but he was willing to give Steve an out._ _

__Steve laughed instead. “Let ‘em. We can pin the pictures to the wall and laugh at the really stupid speculations.”_ _

__“Comments about collaring the pet monster.”_ _

__Steve stiffened and the air around them spiked with lust. When Hulk managed to gently pry the arms around his neck loose enough to lean back, he found Steve watching him with very dark eyes._ _

__“Meant for safety,” Hulk weakly clarified as Bruce laughed at him. It really hadn’t occurred to him the way Steve was clearly taking it._ _

__Clearing his throat, Steve nodded. “Sorry.”_ _

__“Bruce existing sets you off,” Hulk said with a snort. “Nice to know I can too.”_ _

__“No need to sound so damn smug about it. Jesus, this suit isn’t made for moments like this,” Steve groaned, head thumping against the hard curve of Hulk’s shoulder before moving away. Despite his complaints, Steve’s problem wasn’t obvious enough to shatter--or enhance--some poor fan’s dreams._ _

__They fell quiet after that, but Hulk could tell by the subtle shift of emotions on Steve’s face that he was thinking his way through something. Eventually, Steve sighed and pulled himself up straighter._ _

__“You and Bruce are leaving soon, aren’t you?” he asked but it sounded like a statement. Bruce went distressingly quiet in Hulk’s head but there was no point denying it._ _

__At Hulk’s nod, Steve let out a sad, understanding sigh. “Thought so. We’ve been getting very,” Steve trailed off, eyes rolling skyward as if he’d find the word he was searching for there. “Co-dependant.”_ _

__“So do packs,” Hulk pointed out with an edge of annoyance. It was one of the many things he and Bruce didn’t see eye to eye on. As far as Hulk was concerned, as long as none of them was abusive and they could function on their own around people, it wasn’t something to be concerned about._ _

__Steve shook his head. “We’re not pack animals. That’s not how people work.”_ _

__Hulk snorted because, no, that was exactly how people worked. Long stretches of time without human contact broke people. That wasn’t the behavior of a species meant for solitary living._ _

__He kept his mouth shut though. Apparently no one he cared about thought they were doing things the right way if they didn’t make it hard as hell. “He was going to tell you before leaving. Still is.”_ _

__“Even though I know now?”_ _

__“He won’t remember this later,” Hulk explained with a smile that looked more like a grimace. It was one of the more frustrating aspects of their duality. Bruce was nicer when he wasn’t in control._ _

__“The plan’s to be back by Christmas,” Hulk said after Steve didn’t reply._ _

__The smile that earned him was so bright and beautiful that Hulk couldn’t fathom why Bruce was being so difficult._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce chapter next unless plans change. I really like playing with the way he and Hulk communicate with each other.


	9. Chapter 9

It always surprised Bruce, just a little, that Tony was the one pushing for this team thing the hardest. Sure, there was a definite closeness building between all of them--including their absentee god who had proven very sweet when not stressing over family--but it had been Tony advocating the loudest since the moment he herded them out for shawarma. So Bruce really should have seen this particular slant in the new plans for Stark Tower coming.

Slowly flicking through the holographic wireframes and floorplans, he didn’t know what to think of them having a clubhouse. It seemed a waste of time and money, honestly. They had their own lives and most of them their own homes. Hell, they were sitting in Steve’s living room, sipping _his_ coffee from _his_ mugs, while Tony talked about gyms and practice ranges.

But Bruce had to admit that it was a very Tony thing to do. It had taken him much longer than he would have liked to realize Tony was a collector. Cars, ugly art, one night stands, Tony gathered them up and showed them off with the delight of a true aficionado. It made sense that he’d do the same with people. Pluck up the ones that intrigued him and keep them close. Put them in a big shiny tower that used to have his name on it and let the whole world see.

Most would say it was very Dom of Tony, but Bruce knew better than to believe Doms cornered the market in possessiveness. He found it strangely inoffensive that he’d been marked down as Tony’s to some degree. Between his father and General Ross, possessive behavior tended to make Bruce nervous.

“Tony,” he began once a gap in the excited babbling presented itself, “what makes you think everyone is going to live here?”

Tony gave Bruce that smile that always made him both wary and intrigued. “Now, Honeybunny, bear with me because this is gonna be revolutionary.” He leaned in close, grinning and full of conspiratorial delight, to whisper, “I thought I’d start by convincing you, and Steve would follow like your ass was a magnet.” He laughed and quickly jumped away to avoid Bruce’s lazy swat.

“I’ll figure out the rest from there.” 

“I think you’re overestimating my appeal,” Bruce absently argued, his attention mainly on the plans and notes for his floor. At least Tony had included a room to contain the Other Guy in case Bruce’s control slipped.

Tony rolled his eyes. “And I think you’re seriously underestimating how much Steve wants him some Bruce,” he insisted with a pointed look. “Someone’s finally seen all you’ve got to offer and is drooling for a chance to eat it up. Accept it, talk about it, and when you’re up for it, hand him a damn spoon and tell him to dig in.”

“Yeah, because you absolutely _don’t_ have an ulterior motive here,” Bruce said with a snort then glanced nervously at the door. He prayed Tony would drop the subject if Steve came home early from therapy.

“Of course I have an ulterior motive!” Tony cried as he threw his arms wide, apparently insulted that Bruce thought he would deny it. “Doesn’t mean you won’t seriously benefit from it. You guys are practically there already. With the way you invade each other’s space, I’m tempted to put you on the same floor.”

“Don’t,” Bruce blurted out. There was a shift deep inside his mind, softly questioning and very annoyed.

_Just no_ , Bruce inanely countered, fighting not to answer out loud like he usually did. It might make him look saner, but he’d never gotten the hang of having a silent conversation without doing the thousand yard stare.

The Other Guy rarely took well to being brushed off, especially when he thought Bruce was being monumentally stupid. He butted against the edges of Bruce’s awareness, gentle--always gentle, the Other Guy never actually hurt _him_ \--but insistent. He communicated his annoyance in waves of feeling instead of actual words, slow heavy currents that Bruce couldn’t ignore.

“His floor’s right above mine,” Bruce found himself saying to both Tony and his constant passenger. “The Other Guy’s taken on tanks more subtle than you, Cupid. You know you won’t see us again if you stick us on the same floor.”

Tony leered at him, eyes bright like he’d won an argument. Bruce didn’t have the anger necessary to mean it when he told Tony to fuck off.

“So you’re not denying the absolutely mutual thing going on with you guys.”

“Of course not. He’s gorgeous, pops impressive hard ons at me, and I’m definitely not a saint. Something’s inevitably going to happen,” Bruce snapped without much heat, ignoring the ticklish sensation of the Other Guy’s amusement. 

He stared at the wireframes, neatly avoiding Tony’s hooded look of judgement that Bruce would imply all he wanted from Steve was sex. It annoyed him that Tony could already read him well enough to know when Bruce’s answers were at least partially full of crap. 

In a moment of mercy, Tony switched topics back to the Tower renovations. Bruce listened to the promises of a state-of-the-art lab and all the freedom he needed. He had to bite back a chuckle on more than one occasion. Tony reminded him of the college recruiters and tour guides who had stalked Culver eager to pounce on potential students with benign fairy tales of college living. 

Tony talked a good game, but like those recruiters and guides, he was leaving out the shadier side of the setup. Shoving the whole team into one place would be painting a giant target for reporters and enemies, and it would be the people working in the floors below caught in the crossfire. 

His attention was eventually drawn to the sound approaching footsteps and a key working in the lock. Bruce subtly breathed in through his nose then again over his palette. A low happy purr--a rare moment of sound from the Other Guy--rumbled through Bruce’s mind as he found Steve’s scent unaltered by distress or anger. Satisfied nothing was wrong, Bruce went back to listening to Tony who was too engrossed in the wireframes to notice they had company.

“What are you two brainiacs up to?” Steve asked as he slipped off his jacket.

Bruce twisted to meet Steve’s gaze, offering one of his less wry and world weary smiles. Despite the foreign urge to pry, he didn’t ask how Steve’s session went. “The changes Tony wants to make to Stark Tower.”

“ _Avengers_ Tower,” Tony automatically corrected then seemed to notice Steve was there. “We’re all going to live there and it’ll be great! See?” He dragged Steve over as he talked. “There’ll be a gym and a movie room and I’ll make a range for Clint and somewhere for Natasha to hide the bodies.”

Steve arched an eyebrow at Tony before shifting his gaze to Bruce. “And you’re going to move in too?”

Bruce tried not to physically react, but it was hard between that being Steve’s first concern and the Other Guy smacking him with the emotional equivalent of punching the air. Removing his glasses, Bruce stared at his hands as he toyed with the frame.

“Every once in awhile. When I’m in the U.S. for missions, anyway.” Because, yes, it looked like he was going to keep doing this whole team player thing even though it was a horrible idea. “I’m going to need somewhere better protected than the average apartment or hotel room eventually.”

Steve frowned. “You really think General Ross is still going to come after you? After all you and Hulk have done to help?”

A tangled mess of fear, hatred, and anger curled through Bruce’s mind like black vines, ensnaring and twining with his own reaction to Ross’ name. Bruce sucked in a slow breath, pushed the Other Guy back so he had room to think, then quirked his mouth in something he belatedly recognized as a grimace instead of the intended smile. 

“I think all that’s going to do is prove I’m the weapon he thought I was,” Bruce admitted, not needing to look to notice the anger and concern rolling off of Steve. “Now that he knows the Other Guy will let someone boss him around, Ross’ll try even harder to get himself a super soldier.”

“But there’s no way in hell that bastard’s getting passed J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony said with a grin that was all teeth and dark pride.

For a long moment, Steve looked between the two of them. Bruce was close to squirming when Steve finally nodded. “I’m in.”

“Great! Told you it would work out!” Tony crowed and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. “Now, I’ve got to get back to my loving girlfriend and boyfriend before they let the government give War Machine the worst makeover _ever_.” 

Tony made for the door then stopped, turning around to point at Bruce. “Remember what we talked about, Big Guy. Promise,” he ordered, just a shade too firm to be casual. 

Bruce rolled his eyes. “Yes, I promise, Tony. Now go before they start the flag themed paint job.”

Tony made a loud noise of disgust before finally swanning out of the apartment. The floorplans were left behind, no doubt on purpose so Bruce could moon over the lab he’d been promised.

“Do I even want to know what that was about?” Steve asked, eyebrow arched and head cocked in a way that was far too appealing.

Bruce shrugged, took a measured breath through his mouth, and put on his glasses. He used the time it bought him to carefully set himself to rights both inside and out. 

Head down, he glanced up at Steve with a smirk. “Sure but I’m not going to tell you.”

“Fine. I don’t want to be part of your super secret genius club anyway,” Steve said with a faked pout that made Bruce want to bite at the tempting swell of his bottom lip. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Bruce silently cursed Tony for turning his thoughts to sex. He scrambled to center himself and found his efforts lacking.

“Steve,” he blurted out but couldn’t continue, unsure whether the panic bursting like firecrackers in him was his own or the Other Guy’s.

Steve had been heading for the kitchen before Bruce stopped him. He turned, expression suddenly serious and body tensed as though he expected a blow. Like maybe he knew exactly what Bruce wanted to say after the natural opening Tony had left gaping in his wake.

“I...do you like your new therapist?” Bruce asked and immediately felt stupid. The Other Guy was barely a blip in his mind, giving Bruce as wide a berth as possible.

Steve blinked slowly at him before answering. “Dr. Albaf’s nice, and I find what she’s got to say helpful. I trust her, I guess. Dr. Hewlett was a good doctor too, but it wasn’t working out.” He looked at Bruce, held his gaze and refused to let go. There was no hostility there, just focus. “But that’s not what you wanted to talk about, was it?”

Bruce shook his head, swallowed. “He told you,” he muttered, almost too soft to be heard by normal ears. He didn’t know whether to feel betrayed or relieved. “I was thinking next Monday might be a good time to leave.”

“Okay. If I ask why, will I get an answer that isn’t vague or meant to distract me?”

Laughing softly, Bruce nodded. Looked like Tony wasn’t the only one who’d made a study of reading through his bullshit. “I like it here. I like being around you and the others. I like _you_ , jesus, more than I really should. But I’ve been alone for a really long time and I need to know that I...that if I have to be alone again, I can live with it.”

The lines of Steve’s body softened, the expected blow never coming. He came closer but stopped before entering Bruce’s personal space. His gaze held Bruce’s, blue eyes gentle and sweet enough that Bruce almost mistook Steve for the innocent, naive young man so many assumed him to be.

“Okay. Okay, I get that,” Steve assured, actually meaning it and that was part of why Bruce liked him so much. Almost anyone else would have fed Bruce some optimistic line, but Steve didn’t even pretend that life was fair. 

“Hulk said you planned to be back by Christmas. I’d like that. I’d like to have you here.”

Bruce could hear all the words Steve had left unsaid. The emotion behind them was so strong that Bruce could almost taste it, acrid with sadness and regret. That was why he had decided to come back, part of it anyway, because he felt this first Christmas needed to filled with as many people as possible from Steve’s past and present. Bruce would rope the other Avengers in if he had to, but he had a feeling Tony was already way ahead of him.

And if that meant Bruce wasn’t alone for Christmas either, well, that was just an added benefit.

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” Bruce promised and clenched his hands into fists to keep from kissing that smile off of Steve’s face.

 

That night, Bruce couldn’t sleep. Words refused to focus so he abandoned his attempts to read. A reevaluation of Tony’s plans for the Tower was discarded next. His skin felt too small, and the Other Guy shifted restlessly in the recesses of his mind.

Bruce drifted from his room into the kitchen where he found nothing to hold his attention. The living room was next and he stood there in the dark, looking around as though his enhanced night vision might pick out something of interest. Sighing, he turned the television on, muting the sound before he sank down onto the couch to watch the mindless flickering of infomercials.

A half hour later brought soft footfalls and Steve’s welcoming scent. He was sleep rumpled and shirtless, pajama bottoms riding low enough on his hips to look like an invitation. Leaning against the nearest wall, he didn’t say a word, didn’t utter a single sound. All he did was watch Bruce with sharp focus and eyes that were strangely bright in the darkness.

The night and quiet could do that, make hunters-- predators--out of people, especially when they were already starving for something. Bruce should have been worried, the instinctual prey-terror demanding he run or fight. Instead he felt like the gatekeeper of a situation that was finally coming to a head.

“My blood is radioactive,” Bruce threw into the darkness, staring Steve down. Let the implications of that fact lie between them for the other man to discover.

“I know,” Steve answered. The silence told the rest, of assumptions made and examined and ultimately set aside. The Other Guy growled in interest, the emotion shivering along the tension and anticipation already filling the air. 

“Bad idea having sex with someone who can give you cancer.”

Teeth flashing as he smiled, Steve shook his head and pushed off the wall. “I don’t think you can. They doused me with radiation too, you know. If you’re going to harm me, you’ll have to actually try.”

“That’s hardly scientific,” Bruce countered, shooting for a joke but his tone was all wrong. The Other Guy pushed forward, crowded in, but made no attempt to take control. He seemed, oddly enough, happy to just watch.

“I’m not a scientist.” Steve sat on the far arm of the couch, leaning forward so the space between them coiled with the scent of arousal. He looked poised to pounce, eyes hungry, body straining as he held himself back.

“Tell me to stop, Bruce. If you really want me to, tell me to stop.”

Bruce should. He should drive home the fact that it was too dangerous a thing to risk, that even a condom wasn’t protection enough. 

But he couldn’t, not while this gorgeous man was looking at him like he was something vital. _Him_ , of all people, despite the mess his life had become since the accident. 

Shaking his head, Bruce reached out.

Steve was on him in a second, hands grasping, mouth intent on devouring Bruce’s. Steve made a sound like something inside of him had broken, urgent and aching, shamelessly needy. He dragged Bruce closer, up into his lap so the hard lines of their erections pressed tight together.

Bruce whined, an embarrassing sound but he was already too far gone to care. His fingers dug into the muscles of Steve’s back, desperation killing the potential for gentleness. Steve chuckled darkly against his throat, teeth and lips exploring as a hand worked under Bruce’s thin shirt, the other grabbing his ass to encourage Bruce to rut against him.

He did, hips twisting, wild for it after so long. Steve just took it, encouraging the violence of Bruce’s grip, the blunt cruelty of his teeth on unprotected skin. Bruce could feel bruises intent on forming on his thighs, just barely under the fabric of his boxers where fingertips explored and uniform-short nails scraped. The thought of those dark marks decorating him made Bruce shudder, made him gasp and beg into the curve of Steve’s neck.

Steve laughed again, hands squeezing but refusing to guide. Bruce moaned in need, in sharp desperate anger that the Other Guy ignored in favor of clouding Bruce’s mind with more compelling emotions. Snarling, Bruce swivelled his hips harder, pace brutal enough to make the couch moan in protest and Steve hold on for dear life.

“You thought it was funny, all those time I got hard around you,” Steve muttered into his ear, almost contemplative despite the rough edge to his voice. The hint of stubble scratched at Bruce’s cheek. “Well, you want it now, you take it.”

Bruce bit him just short of breaking skin, pettiness answering pettiness, but the sound Steve made was anything but a complaint.

“Gonna get you back for this,” Bruce promised. That earned him the hard line of Steve’s smile against his jaw.

“God, I hope so.” 

So Bruce used him the way Steve seemed to want. He rubbed hard against Steve’s clothed cock and shivering stomach muscles until Bruce finally came with a low sob, fingers digging hard enough into Steve’s back to leave bruises of his own. Steve went still against him as Bruce jerked and shuddered, waiting it out before shooting Bruce a questioning look. 

When his brain could manage actual thoughts again, Bruce snorted and leaned back, manhandling Steve along with him until Bruce was on his back with Steve on top of him. He hooked his heels into the back of Steve’s legs and pulled hard.

“You want it, you take it,” Bruce mimicked, gaze daring Steve on as he bucked hard into the body above him. Bruce’s teeth clenched at the drag of wet fabric against his oversensative cock, but he did it again. Did it until Steve shifted his hold, caging Bruce in as he caged in Steve, iron-tight tangles of limbs as Steve rutted against him in fast, hard thrusts.

Whatever sound Steve made as he came was lost in Bruce’s mouth, hips performing one more harsh juttering buck before he stilled. Bruce rubbed his hands over warm flesh, along broad shoulders and the hard knots of spine. He pressed at Steve’s lower back, coaxing him to rest his full weight on Bruce.

“Thank you,” Steve muttered against his mouth, soft and reverent, and despite the fluid staining his boxers and cooling on his skin, Bruce hadn’t felt so clean in years.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the wait. I write from home and we've got no AC despite living in the middle of hell during a heat wave. It really doesn't help me get anything done.

Even though he knew it was coming, Steve really wasn’t prepared when Monday rolled around. Bruce had left off packing until the very last second, refusing to take almost anything he hadn’t paid for himself. Steve sat on the bed and watched Bruce move around the small space, shoving clothing and other items into a duffle he’d gotten from Natasha. He was having a hard time not grabbing Bruce’s hands to make him stop.

Occasionally, Steve would grab Bruce around the waist and drag him into his lap. Bruce would go with surprising ease and no small amount of amusement, tilting his head to meet kisses or allow Steve access to his neck to suck another bruise into existence. 

“People are gonna think a vampire got me,” Bruce said with a laugh as he wriggled free from the latest interruption. 

“Pretty sure incubus would be more accurate.” Steve curled his fingers around his pants, notching his blunt fingernails into the inseams.

“Where are you going to go?” Steve asked, hoping this time he’d get more than a list of countries Bruce might want to revisit.

“I told you.” There was a laugh in Bruce’s voice that Steve didn’t buy for a second.

He tried not to frown. “You really didn’t.”

Bruce deserved some sort of award for his acting. He blinked slowly, innocently, at Steve as though he hadn’t even realized he was lying. “Huh. Well, I’m not sure yet.”

Steve’s mouth opened then closed without uttering a sound, his face a mask of angry disbelief before he clamped down tighter on his reactions. 

“Wouldn’t it be a good idea to figure that out before you go?”

Bruce shook his head and looked around the room. “No. No, it’s fine. I tend to think best on the road.”

Steve closed his eyes, jaw working. His fingers clenched and unclenched with the impotent urge to sit Bruce down and make him talk. 

“You not telling me because you honestly don’t know or because you want space?” Steve asked, sounding calmer and more sure of himself than he felt. 

Bruce paused while reaching for something, hand hanging in mid air. His gaze went distant for a moment before fixing on Steve.

“Probably both. It’s kind of...” Bruce dropped his hand with an explosive sound of frustration. “I don’t really know how to deal with all of this. I’m not used to having to explain. I mean, I really have _no clue_ where I’m going, but the only person who might’ve asked because they actually cared about _me_ was Betty. And she couldn’t risk knowing because her father’s a giant asshole.”

“Well, you’ve got at least four more people now who care. We just want to know where to find you if you need us.”

Bruce’s expression was too still to be anything but a mask as he moved over to the bed. He stood in front of Steve, close enough that their legs bumped. Unconsciously, Steve spread his legs and Bruce stepped into the space provided, looking down at Steve with a mix of affection and mild irritation.

“That’s kind of annoying actually. Which sounds really ungrateful,” Bruce admitted. Steve laughed and wrapped his arms around Bruce’s waist, forehead resting against the skin exposed by Bruce’s ever-undone top button. Fingers curled in the short strands of hair at the back of Steve’s head. 

“I’m not ungrateful. I’m not. It’s really sweet,” Bruce said, sounding like he meant it. “It’s also really weird after so long. Everyone involved? Also really weird. Which is why I’m giving you permission to satellite-stalk me around the world.” 

Steve huffed out a laugh against Bruce’s chest. “That might be the sweetest creepy thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah? Well, try this on for size--” Bruce said, trying for amused but skewing slightly off target “--you probably really don’t need to know where I am so you can ride in and save the day. If the Other Guy gets out, he’s heading straight back here.”

Steve shifted backwards as much as Bruce would allow. Bruce wouldn’t meet his gaze, eyes focused on some point over Steve’s shoulder. His expression was a blend of confusion, fear, and anger that made Steve’s heart ache.

“Thank you,” Steve said as he gently rubbed at Bruce’s tense back. “You make me feel safe too.”

The tension eased out of Bruce, and he pushed back into Steve’s touch. Bruce didn’t look any happier but there was relief and gratitude in his eyes, subtle and nearly masked by all the other emotions there.

They pulled apart, both slightly embarrassed, and Bruce stopped pussyfooting around. Steve silently watched as he threw a couple more things in the duffle before he was satisfied he was ready. He let Steve take his hand, fingers lacing together as they headed for the front door. 

“Hey wait,” Steve said as Bruce turned the knob, reaching out to stop him. “Here.”

Digging into his pocket, Steve pulled out a fistful of bills--everything left of his cut from the bet Clint helped them win--and held them out. Bruce’s mouth twisted into a scowl, the urge to argue written clearly on his features. Practicality won in the end.

“I’m not paying this back,” Bruce insisted, smiling slightly at his own pettiness as he took the money.

Steve laughed. “I wasn’t expecting you to.” He leaned in to steal one last kiss before giving Bruce room to open the door. “See you when you get back.”

“Yeah, try not to get hurt while your big, green babysitter’s away. You’ll make him sad.”

“Just him?” Steve teased around the knot trying to form in his throat.

“Well...,” Bruce said, and the smile that flickered across his face was almost entirely genuine. “Maybe I’ll feel a little something. Just don’t get yourself blown up or whatever before I figure out what to get you for Christmas.”

Steve promised to try and didn’t get offended when Bruce didn’t promise anything in return.

 

Steve didn’t even question that his first instinct was to go to the gym. He considered calling Dr. Albaf, but this was a clean sort of negativity, the kind he could repurpose and channel. This was nothing he couldn’t handle on his own.

He was punching his way through his third bag when Agent Wise entered the room. He ignored her but the weight of her gaze on him added tension to his shoulders, making the muscles clench and twitch.

“Captain, I--”

In a single fluid motion, Steve’s hand changed direction mid punch, swinging toward her with the pointer finger extended in a gesture to wait. He took her in with a flat, sideways glare. “Don’t.”

Frowning, Wise’s expression flickered in vague panic, gaze darting around to find a way around the roadblock she’d hit. Steve could actually see the moment she gave up on him, her eyes narrowing before she turned and left the building. Steve waited until her footsteps faded before letting his fist fly again.

Fury showed up sooner than Steve expected. He looked the way Steve felt: tired, miserable, and haggard. Time spent learning S.H.I.E.L.D.’s methods told Steve this was a calculated move. This was Fury flayed open like a wound in a bid for trust.

“What do you want?”

“To know if I need to have Barton keeping a closer eye on you,” Fury answered as he dropped down onto the bench near the weights. He clasped his hands and let them hang in the space between his legs.

Steve dropped out of his stance, flexing his fingers as he gave the other man a suspicious look. “And why would I need that?”

“Because I know what you’re going through. It isn’t easy to do alone.”

“Do you really?” Steve asked, but there was no bite in the words. He was curious now and eager to be distracted from his own trouble.

Expression blank, Fury stared at him until Steve had to fight the urge to fidget. Then Fury shifted, slowly, hand going inside his coat. “Normally, it would be real fucking stupid to tell you this, but I’ve secured the building myself. Not that it really matters now.” 

He removed a stiff, square piece of paper from his coat, stared at it for a moment, then held it out to Steve.

Hesitating, Steve took it. It was a photograph, an old one judging from how young Fury and Coulson looked in it. They were happy, pressed close with Coulson’s arm around Fury’s shoulders and bright smiles for the camera. These weren’t S.H.I.E.L.D.’s finest; Fury hadn’t even lost his eye yet. These were two young men, bright dangerous things, whose very bodies telegraphed how much they loved each other.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh,” Fury said with grim amusement. “And thanks for the drawings, Cap.”

Steve returned the photograph and Fury took it like it was delicate, precious. He put it back in his inside pocket with a sigh. “I have Hill, Romanoff, and Barton to kick my ass if I stop functioning properly and since they’re such nosy bastards, they’ve made watching me a full time job. Do I need to make one of them your personal voyeur?”

A laugh startled out of Steve and he shook his head, smiling though he didn’t really feel it. “No, I’m probably going to have to fight Tony off with a stick as soon as he finds out about Bruce. I’ll be fine. He’ll be back and I don’t want him to feel like he has to stay just to keep me stable.”

Fury studied him for a moment, head cocked. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him. “Good. I’d rather not run my best agents into the ground babysitting both of us.”

“One more thing, Captain,” Fury said as Steve began to move away. “Watch yourself. I’m not a strong believer in coincidence.”

“What do you mean?”

Fury blinked at him then sighed. “Even when you get all chummy, you’re horrible at communicating. Stark’s not the only one finding trouble around every corner. I’d suggest asking Barton and Romanoff next time you see them.”

Steve frowned. “Bruce--”

“Is someone few people want to get on the bad side of,” Fury interrupted. The smile he gave Steve was wry but not unkind. “And he’s leaving. I don’t think he’ll be a focus as long as he’s doing his own thing. 

“I could be wrong about all this. I’m not questioning why these things are happening because that makes sense. I’m questioning the _frequency_ of events and little details that don’t add up.”

“Care to be a little less cryptic?” Steve asked, annoyed as much with the vagueness as the idea that someone was messing with his team.

Fury seemed to consider that then shrugged. “Romanoff is meeting more resistance on missions than anticipated. Her face is plastered on the news so not hard to believe, right?” He shifted, rolling back on his heels before starting to pace. “Except I took that into account and made sure her missions focus almost solely on stealth rather than her unique people skills.”

“And Barton?”

“Medical and psych refuse to clear him. Claim that because he worked closest with Loki, he’s gotten more exposure to the sceptre than the other agents we managed to get back.” Fury scoffed, anger sparking in his eye. 

“Okay, maybe I buy that. And maybe I buy they’re worried he might fuck us up from the inside if he hasn’t completely shaken it, but now whispers have started. Whispers about how a traitor--” Fury’s teeth clicked around the word “--shouldn’t be on _your_ team.”

Steve swallowed down the rage that boiled up in him. He needed to ask Clint and Natasha about this before he came to any conclusion. Maybe get Tony to see if there was any rhyme or reason to the stress Stark Industries was currently under.

He searched Fury’s face despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to see the lie that might be there. “I have no reason to trust you.”

The smile Fury gave him was an ugly flash of teeth. He took a step towards Steve, the tense lines of his body almost a threat. “They won’t release my husband’s body. They’re running tests, they say. I haven’t even seen him since my helicarrier tried to take a swan dive into the ocean. Does that sound aboveboard to you? I’m the goddamn director of this organization and they won’t let me see one corpse!”

The last word ended on a fractured snarl, so vicious Steve instinctively shifted into a defensive stance. Fury hissed and sucked in a deep breath. His expression struggled to claim neutrality before finally smoothing. 

“I honestly think someone is screwing with your team. With _me_ , and that takes more balls than brains,” Fury said, voice flat save for the hint of a steel edge. “Be careful, Captain. You’re not nearly as untouchable without Banner around.”

Steve waited until the front door had slammed shut behind Fury before slowly letting out the breath he’d been holding and reaching for his phone to call Peggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been waiting forever to reveal the Fury and Coulson thing, awwww yissss.
> 
> Also, I really wish I had enough of a grasp on Jennifer Walters and her personality to include her in this fic somewhere. It feels like such an oversight to not include her in the MCU, even pre-transfusion. Maybe they didn't have the rights or something but otherwise, it wouldn't have killed them to have two tough, smart ladies who care about Bruce in his movie.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the wait. This chapter wouldn't tell me where and how it wanted to go and after I finally figured it out, every sentence was like pulling teeth. Fingers crossed that the block is over cuz that crap is frustrating as hell. At least I know how the next chapter is going to go.

Steve had yet to touch base with Tony. Everyone at Stark Industries seemed to be running themselves into the ground trying to deal with the company’s mountain of worries. The media were having a field day, coverage turning from simply reporting the more notable incidents to speculating on why the company was under fire.

The most prominent theory was that Tony’s increased fame was drawing out people desperately grasping for their own fifteen minutes in the limelight. There were individuals pouncing on the bad publicity to put forth their own negative opinions about Tony, Pepper, the company. Rhodey had even becoming a target, ranging from pieces that were basically thinly veiled racism playing at concern, to scrutinizing the War Machine’s reincarnation into the more image-friendly Iron Patriot.

Clint had been easier to get in touch with but that wasn’t saying much. Bruce leaving had been the death of the Captain America and Hulk babysitting venture. Clint had found himself chained to a desk almost immediately, fighting a losing battle with menial paperwork ever since. He’d been glassy eyed when Steve last saw him, dark bruises under his eyes confirming how little he’d been sleeping lately. That hadn’t stopped him from giving Steve a precise and thorough, if not somewhat reluctant, report.

The relayed info went like this: Yes, Clint was getting crap. No, Steve wasn’t allowed to punch anyone for it. Yes, Natasha was coming home from missions more banged up than usual. Yes, Steve could punch someone for _that_. Yes, Fury and Coulson were married--which had been confirmed by Peggy earlier--and, no, Fury wasn’t taking it well.

Which was part of why the World Security Council had sent Smith in to oversee and sometimes usurp Fury’s duties. The fuck you send off Fury and Hill had given them had supposedly ‘rattled their faith’ in the pairs ability to lead, Clint had said with a sneer, obviously quoting someone else.

Clint had described Smith as a weaselly man with a smile that bore too many teeth and never reached his eyes. The words ‘too shady even for a shadow organization’ might have gotten tossed around too, but Steve ignored that part for the more pertinent information. Natasha, at Smith’s bidding, was on a op that would take a couple of weeks at best to complete. Someone called Falcon was working as her backup, a fact that might have been Clint’s sole reason for not shooting Smith in the face.

That had been a week ago. Clint was too busy drowning in paperwork to pay another visit, and Steve wasn’t a desperate enough jerk to push just because he was feeling lonely.

Bruce’s weeks-stale scent clung stubbornly to the places he’d been the most, almost as ingrained in the fabric as in Steve’s mind. He found himself pausing sometimes, still expecting to hear soft footsteps or a wry, mirthless chuckle and being disappointed when all he got was Bruce’s fading smell and the sound of his own breathing.

Steve could honestly say he missed Bruce and for reasons other than an incessant libido and genuine affection. As infuriating as Bruce could be sometimes, it had been nice having someone else to feel lost with for awhile.

Yeah, that wasn’t maudlin at all.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Steve considered going to a movie. It was late, the sort of late better suited for smoky bars and strangers with smokier eyes than the cinema. But that felt too much like something out of Noir flick, and Steve’s current mood put the kibosh on potential flirtations.

He was just pulling up film times when the phone rang.

“Hello?” he asked, hoping it was Tony or Pepper finally getting back to him.

There was nothing for a few seconds aside from the crackle of the line. He almost hung up, assuming a wrong or dropped call, when the first tinny words filtered through.

“Are you awake?”

“Excuse me? I’m sorry, who is this?” Steve asked, brow furrowed as he tried to place the voice.

The only answer he received was the dial tone droning in his ear.

***

Despite maintaining a polite relationship with most of his neighbors, Steve kept mostly to himself. He didn’t mean to be antisocial. He helped out wherever he could, but he’d still earned himself a reputation as the nice but mysterious war veteran in Apartment 19. A reputation that had only grown when Bruce came into the picture, equally polite but far more skittish.

By now Steve could usually tell if he was being roped into something social out of an actual interest to interact with him, hope for information to fuel the gossip, or--more confusing to handle--to make a pass at him. As he glanced around Mrs. Wight’s crowded living room, Steve had a growing suspicion this party was some bizarre mix of all three.

He was puzzling over whether he’d stayed the polite amount of time already and could leave. Not home where he’d probably find the daily confusing message from his anonymous caller--the count was currently at five--but maybe there was still a pool hall where people didn’t know not to play him for money.

Joel Carson, king of the building gossips, managed to corner him before Steve could edge his way to the door.

“So where’d your boyfriend get off to?” Joel asked with a large smile. Renee, his girlfriend, nudged him not too subtly in the side.

Steve took a swig of his beer, using the extra time to judge how many different things Joel hoped to glean from his answer. Three, Steve decided: his sexuality, his relationship with Bruce, and where Bruce had gone. Maybe four if Joel thought Steve was chatty enough to spill why Bruce had left.

“Not my boyfriend, I’m afraid,” Steve said with a slightly disappointed expression that he didn’t have to fake. He flashed Joel a bright grin. “Why so interested? Might make Renee jealous paying me so much attention.”

Joel let out a wan laugh, fingers toying nervously with the silver ring on his collar while Renee snickered at his discomfort. Steve smiled sweetly at them both, already plotting how to make his exit.

“Steve, you haven’t met Emily yet, have you?” rang out from across the room before Steve could make his excuses.

He bit back a sigh, knowing that if he turned he’d find Mrs. Wight guiding the newest tenant and the entire reason for the party over for a proper introduction. Pasting on his Captain America meet-and-greet smile, Steve opened his mouth to start the rote string of niceties but froze before making a sound. The woman Steve had caught glimpses of over the last couple of days had been a willowy blonde who clearly worshiped at the same altar of tall, red-soled shoes as Natasha and Pepper. But the woman following in Mrs. Wight’s wake, smiling politely but with no real interest, was a dead ringer for Peggy when Steve first met her, right down to the uniform.

A small, strangled sound startled out of Steve before he could stop it. It felt like someone had his heart and lungs in a vice grip.

“Steve, honey, are you okay? You’re pale as a ghost,” Mrs. Wight said. Beside her, Peggy—no, not Peggy, _Emily_ —looked concerned.

Finding a breath, Steve nodded, blinked. Peggy’s doppelganger disappeared and there was Emily as she actually was, starting to eye him like he might be someone to avoid in the future. It jarred Steve into composing himself.

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized, giving them a weak smile. “Really sorry, ma’am, you just...reminded me of someone I know for a second. It sort of threw me. Horrible first impression, right?”

Everything after that was a blur of awkward conversation and banked panic. Steve had no idea how he finally talked his way out of the party, honestly didn’t care, but he could hear Mrs. Wight quietly apologizing for him as he left. Something about soldiers sometimes having problems once they got home.

The phone was ringing when he got back to his apartment. It was still ringing when Steve crawled into his bed wearing his dogtags for the first time in months.

***

Ignoring that it was an absolutely predictable move, he went to see Peggy the next day. He must have looked as bad as he felt because she let him in with a concerned frown on her face and questions in her gaze.

She didn’t say anything to him, just sat him down, got him something warm to drink, and waited. Steve leaned into her as she hugged him, head resting on her chest where he could hear the strong steady thump of her heart. Her warmth smothered the chill that had been in his bones since waking that morning. It was the steadiest he’d felt since the party.

“I’m getting cryptic calls in the middle of the night asking me if I’m awake,” Steve said after sucking in a breath, “and, for a second, my new neighbor went from a blonde ready to take on Wall Street to _you_ when you were knocking out mouthy idiots.”

“Oh, Steve.”

Anger flickered in him, bright and lacking a proper target. “I’m not going crazy.”

“That wasn’t my first thought at all,” Peggy insisted, squeezing his head in retaliation.

Sighing, Steve rubbed his face against the fabric of Peggy’s shirt. “Okay, I _might_ be going crazy, but the timing’s a little...fishy, right? Everyone’s catching shit and now I’m going off the deep end? Kind of convenient.”

“Now _that_ was my first thought. Good to see we’re on the same page.”

Steve dredged up a smile, humming softly as her fingers ruffled his hair. “Gotta admit it’s kinda working.” He pulled away a little and yanked his tags out from under his shirt for Peggy to see. “I haven’t worn these in awhile. They felt like ice last time I touched them.”

“So why are you wearing them now?” Peggy asked, but he could tell it was a leading question. Just something to encourage him to let out everything he needed to.

Steve paused, considering it, before answering. “Everything on here,” he tapped a blunt nail against the metal, “I’m sure about that. I’ve known it most of my life. Everything since the War… feels kinda like a dream, you know? I mean, one day I’m small and useless--”

“You were never useless, Steve.”

“I know that. And you know that and… and I think Bucky might have known it too. But almost no one else did,” Steve said with a frown.

Peggy waited for him to say something else. When he didn’t, she spoke instead. “Do you think you’re dreaming?”

“I think someone took a good, hard look at how insane my life’s been and figured they could roll me,” Steve answered, a snap to his words that weren’t directed at her. “And I’ve never been the sort to go down easy.”

Peggy smiled at him, that small, precise smile that promised death and mayhem and made Steve wish he’d gotten to see her in action more often. He bit back a laugh. He was starting to recognize he had a type.

“So what are you going to do about it, soldier?”

Well, that was a good question. “Raise some hell once I figure out who’s behind it. Talk to my therapist in case… in case I’m wrong and it’s all just me.”

“It’s good that you’re open to the possibility,” Peggy said. Steve could hear what she wasn’t saying, that she believed this was a tangible enemy instead of his mind turning on itself. He could kiss her for it, but he wasn’t sure he was still allowed.

She gave him another, gentler, squeeze then slipped away to sit across from him. The cold seeped back into him almost immediately.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone right now.”

Pride made Steve want to argue he wasn’t a child needing to be babysat. Logic pointed out that having someone trying to ground him in reality right then and there instead of after the fact would probably be a huge help. Fear won in the end. Fear that anyone he stayed with might become a target too, that he’d only put them in harm’s way. And that there was a very real chance the danger was him all along.

Shaking his head, he made a soft disconcerted noise in the back of his throat. It was like just after taking the serum, the cold, ugly realization that he could accidentally hurt someone so easily if he wasn’t careful now. That he might just be too strong after a lifetime of being considered too weak. Except this felt so much worse.

“What?”

Steve blinked at Peggy then gave her a small, bitter smile. “I think I know how Bruce feels now.”

“And?”

“And I’d rather go a few rounds with a gorilla,” Steve admitted, mouth curving into something more genuine. “I’m not quite ready to get a new roommate, Peggy. I think maybe we should figure out what we’re dealing with before I potentially risk someone’s safety.”

“You specifically. Like Bruce,” Peggy said with a growing look of understanding. Steve hummed in agreement, impressed she’d put two and two together from what had no doubt been unclear and misleading reports and Steve’s own tight-lipped and biased comments about Bruce. Then again, Peggy’d never needed a map to get the lay of the land.

Steve shrugged. “Until I know better, the only threat might be me. Finding out I might be losing it would be bad enough. Actually hurting someone...”

“I’ll go with that for now,” Peggy said, but her frown told Steve he had a limited amount of time before she took the matter completely in hand. She straightened, wrapping authority around her like a well-worn blanket. “Until then, you can tell me--in as much detail as you’re comfortable with--exactly what’s been happening. Maybe it will give us an idea of exactly how to start investigating this.”

Sucking in a breath, Steve nodded and started talking.

***

Outside, the air was cool. The occasional green leaf hid tucked among the reds, yellows, and oranges of fall. It was the time of year that begged to be captured on paper, the lure of bright colors almost too much for an artist to resist.

Instead, Steve huddled under his covers, hands and legs tucked close in a vain attempt to conserve warmth. The heater released a steady stream but it did little to relieve the stiffness of his muscles and the deep, throbbing ache.

It had been Bucky in the end, tall and proud in his uniform, beaming at him from down the hall as Steve had come back from grocery shopping. It’d been seeing Bucky that’d finally sent Steve spiraling into a full-on panic attack that still had him reluctant to leave his apartment two days later.

The sound of the front door opening and closing had Steve fumbling to find his way out of the layers of fabric. Panic swamped him, his mind stuck in a frantic loop of _nonono please not Bucky, anything but Bucky_.

Other sounds--footsteps, a man’s low muttering, the vicious snap of an exhaled curse--and smells—Tony’s and an unknown woman’s scents heavily layered on top of another that Steve had encountered before--made him relax and sink back onto the bed with a weary sigh of relief. Rhodey, who was neither straight out of Steve’s past or had struck Steve as the sort to take advantage of the current situation.

“Steve?”

“In here.”

Steve lifted the covers just enough to watch Rhodey enter the room and fumble for the switch. Rhodey’s skin was beaded with sweat, damp spots already forming around his shirt collar and armpits. Dark eyes shifted to where Steve lay, and the intense concern that crossed Rhodey’s features wasn’t covered fast enough to escape notice.

“Uh, hey. I used Tony’s key. He got worried when you stopped shooting him calls to ignore.”

Torn between annoyance and amusement, Steve snorted and pushed the covers off his head. “So he sent you to make sure I’m still alive.”

“Well, yeah,” Rhodey with a small smile. He self-consciously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And to answer the questions you have for him. He’d answer them himself but he and Pepper are honestly starting to get worn out.”

A pause followed. The minute flexing of Rhodey’ expression dictated an internal battle. “Are you okay? I mean, this place makes a desert feel cool, Cap.”

“I’m freezing.”

Rhodey didn’t try to hide his frown this time. His eyes roamed what he could see of Steve, brow creasing. Coming over to the bed, Rhodey lifted his hand towards Steve’s face and waited for a small nod of approval before pressing his palm to Steve’s forehead. Steve bit back a small, relieved sound at the sudden burst of warmth across the skin there. Rhodey removed his hand a few seconds later, palm slick with moisture.

“Doesn’t feel like you have a temperature.” Rhodey glanced at his palm before wiping it across his jeans. “And you’re probably going to faint from dehydration with how much you’re sweating. When’s the last time you had some water?”

“Probably been too long,” Steve admitted. He pushed the covers off of him with a sigh. They weren’t helping anyway. “Come on. I’ll get something to drink while you turn the heat down to something that won’t bake you alive.”

Rhodey, bless him, didn’t say anything about the stiff, awkward way Steve moved as they walked through the apartment. Shuddering at the thought of being hit by the refrigerator’s cool blast, Steve got water from the tap instead while Rhodey fiddled with the temperature. Whatever change was made, Steve didn’t feel.

“So how long’s this been going on?” Rhodey asked, sitting down at the table. The lines of his body were loose and nonthreatening. He watched Steve patiently and with no pressure. Nothing to make Steve feel as though he was being dissected yet attentive enough to show Rhodey cared about what Steve had to say.

“The freezing? About three days now. Woke up cold and couldn’t shake it,” Steve said, frowning down at his glass. “The rest of this crap? Started up almost two weeks ago.”

Rhodey lifted an eyebrow at that, so Steve kept going. It started out as just a breakdown of the situation delivered with military precision. Rhodey was a calming presence, the sort who could coax secrets out with a few quiet words and an understanding look. Other information was spilling out before Steve realized it. The way the calls had increased and were growing progressively more disturbing, Peggy’s fruitless search for information, Steve’s therapist agreeing that something was probably up while simultaneously--unnervingly--making the situation sound like something she’d seen a million times over. The cold and how it reminded Steve of the ice. Those scattered, terrifying moments where he had been awake and couldn’t move, couldn’t see. Maddening silence until the chatter of scientists and doctors as he had thawed, except for once when something huge had repeatedly pounded along the ground and ice above Steve so hard he had felt it rattle along his spine.

As he spoke, his fingers tangled in the chain around his neck. The metal dug into his palm, warm against the chill of his skin. Solid.

After the words had petered to a stop, Rhodey gave him a long, considering look. “New York’s not really a place you want to be in the winter if you’ve got problems with the cold,” he pointed out.

Steve grimaced at the thought. “I’ll manage.”

“Or you could do your mental health a favor and go someplace warm,” Rhodey countered. “Facing your fears before you’re ready can put you in one hell of a bad place. I’d have thought your therapist would have mentioned that by now.”

“She has. I’m not going to be ran out of my home.”

Rhodey shot him a skeptical look. “You’re going to run yourself right into a straight jacket if you’re not up for it. I’m not saying move away permanently. Just until spring.”

“I’m _not_ running away.”

“It’s not...” Rhodey trailed off with a sigh and scrubbing a hand over his face. When he lowered his hand, his expression was frustrated but resolute. “You know why I don’t go on missions with Tony?”

Brow furrowing, Steve shook his head. What the hell did this have to do with what they were talking about?

“Did you hear what happened with Vanko? About how he hijacked my suit and aimed it at my best friend of over twenty years while I was trapped inside and couldn’t do _anything_. I have nightmares about that. About how damn close I came to killing someone I love.”

A low noise erupted from Rhodey, frustration and anger and fear all rolled into one. “That’s why I don’t do missions with Tony. I know I’m not ready. I know my head won’t be in the game because every second I’m going to be scared it’ll happen again and this time Tony won’t make it. That’s not running, Cap. That’s knowing my limit. I’m just trying to make sure you know yours.”

“You really don’t beat around the bush,” Steve said, both annoyed and appreciative.

The small smile Rhodey offered him wasn’t the least bit apologetic. “Don’t worry, you’ll have time to get used to it. I’m your new roommate until we figure out and stop what’s happening here.”

“I like how you just invited yourself to stay.” He rolled his eyes at the flash of teeth Rhodey shot him. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Babysitter? No. I’m backup, Cap.” Rhodey sobered, but the ghost of a smirk remained on his lips. “Think of it this way: Tony’s kind of adopted the Avengers. I, completely by accident, adopted Tony during college. Your whole team is practically my responsibility by proxy. Besides, after we finish up here, you can help us figure out exactly who’s messing with Stark Industries so I can repeatedly punch them in the head. See, my reasons are absolutely selfish.”

Steve gave him a long, considering look. Warning a trained soldier of the danger--from Steve or otherwise--would only be an insult. Rhodey’s gaze was resolute, no room for argument. Oh, he’d leave if Steve absolutely demanded it, but Rhodey would come back. And he’d keep coming back until Steve’s wellbeing became more important than his pride or he became too much of a threat to leave unsupervised.

“Won’t Tony and Pepper miss you?”

Rhodey hesitated, guilt flickering across his face before smoothing into sheepishness. “Okay, I wasn’t completely honest. I _was_ sent to answer questions but also help with whatever was up with you. So no, they’re not expecting me to come right back.”

Steve nodded, unsurprised that Tony would be part of a plan to sneak the cavalry in under his nose. He didn’t have the energy to fight Rhodey over it, especially since it wouldn’t do Steve an ounce of good.

Rhodey’s gaze gained a triumphant shine before Steve even admitted defeat. “Fine, I get it. I was never good at the lone wolf shtick anyway. How are you going to explain suddenly going on vacation to your superiors?”

Rhodey laughed. “Already taken care of. Fury called them before I headed out. Said Captain America personally picked me for a top secret mission. Besides, Tony’s got War Machine. Claims he’s tweaking it, but he’s really just crying over the redesign.”

“Why am I not surprised more people are doing things behind my back?” Steve asked without much heat. No one could tell him Peggy’s hand wasn’t involved in this somehow. She’d probably prodded Fury the moment Steve had left her house.

“Because you work with spies and Tony?”

Ah, logic. Pure, simple, and at the moment very annoying. It was definitely time to change the subject. “I should change professions. Got offered an acting gig a month ago, but I’m pretty sure it was for porn.” Steve grinned at the sputtering laugh Rhodey gasped out. “What? I’ve got Tijuana bibles dedicated to my star-spangled likeness. I’d make a killing doing skin flicks.”

“And psychiatrists are gonna make a killing because of the brains broken from imagining Captain America and porn together,” Rhodey said around a chuckle then stood. “Come on, I’ve got something that might clue us in about those freak calls you’re getting.”

He followed Rhodey, noticing for the first time the travel bag carefully hidden out of view by the couch. Snorting, Steve remained otherwise quiet at Rhodey took his phone apart and put something inside it.

“Tony and I cooked this up. It’s got a direct line to mini J.A.R.V.I.S. here,” Rhodey explained, tapping something that looked like a gunmetal gray watch. “Stripped down, streamlined version of the main A.I. It doesn’t have the juice to run one of the suits, but fast real-time analysis of its wearer’s health, chemical signature, and surroundings is right up its alley. What I put on the phone just makes sure we’ll still know who’s calling even if we’re not in.”

Steve let out a low, appreciative hum. The potential field applications for such a device danced through his head as he examined it.

“You know, they never properly measured my limits after the serum.” He glanced at Rhodey, smirking slightly at the knowing smile blooming on Rhodey’s face. “There’s a whole lot of assumptions and speculation. I figured Fury might run tests one day but I guess he’s still trying to not make me feel like a lab rat.”

Rhodey ducked his head, expression bordering on sheepish but never quite making it there. “Okay, so we might have got the idea after learning about Hulk a couple years back. You can’t hear about someone who smashes tanks like they’re made out of plastic and not want to know how strong they are.”

Smiling fondly at the mention of Hulk, Steve handed the device back over and watched Rhodey put it on. “True. So the environment stuff?”

“Is important to proper analysis,” Rhodey said, completely straight-faced. The facade crumbled after a few seconds as he started grinning like a little boy. “And we had to add stuff to convince Pepper it was an actual, worthwhile project instead of us geeking out on company time.”

The conversation shifted, trailing through various other projects and plans related to the team. Arrows for Clint, a Hulk-friendly room filled with things sized up to fit his unique anatomy, figuring out something to do with the leftover chunk of vibranium Tony had inherited from Howard.

Unfortunately, the legal trouble had ground all of that to a halt. Steve could live without all the things Rhodey and Tony had cooked up, but Rhodey was tense under his enthusiasm and an edge of frustration carried in his words. Steve could live without and so could the team but being too busy to work was driving Rhodey and Tony up a wall.

Switching over to that particular subject wasn’t difficult though Steve would have preferred to continue hearing about tech and robots and proposed improvements. Rhodey went easily enough, stowing his excitement with professional ease to explain the shitstorm hitting Stark Industries. Petty lawsuits, accusations of fraud and theft that were ridiculously easy to disprove, little ‘accidents’ that slowed production if not outright putting the brakes on things for at least a couple hours here and there.

They had lapsed into silence by the time the phone started ringing. Steve lurched to his feet to answer, both hoping and dreading that it was his mystery caller.

“Hello?”

“Are you awake?”

“Jesus, you’ve gotta get a new routine.”

Rhodey watched him for a few seconds, brow furrowed. Then he burst into motion, clawing at the device on his arm in his rush to remove it and gesturing for Steve to give him his arm. Body-warm metal wrapped around his wrist, and Steve’s eyes closed in relief as the heat sank into the newly covered skin. He shot Rhodey a confused look, but Rhodey only had eyes for the device’s small, faintly glowing screen.

“ _Do_ you know? This could all be a dream or some elaborate setup,” the voice said, sounding so concerned. It only strengthened Steve’s resolve to punch whoever was responsible. “Do you know what’s real anymore?”

“No, but if you hum a few bars, I can probably fake it,” Steve spat into the receiver.

“You’re still in the ice, Steve,” the voice said, the concerned act splintering under the snarled rasp of the words. Steve sunk his teeth into that little victory even as the chill riding his body intensified.

“You can feel it, can’t you? The cold? You’re still in the ice, and everything around you is the attempt of a sad, desperate mind to keep itself sane.”

Steve laughed. The small noise that came through the receiver was anything but pleased. “And a mysterious voice is the best I could come up with to help me see the truth? Gotta admit, buddy, you’re failing to impress.”

The dial tone rang loudly in Steve’s ear. The pride that flashed through him died a quick death as he caught sight of Rhodey’s frown.

“What?”

“Steve,” Rhodey said then hesitated, licking his lips before speaking again. “The phone never rang, but--Whoa!”

Nearly knocking Rhodey over wasn’t what Steve had intended when he’d lurched to his feet. He just needed to get away from the words and the distressing idea that he was imagining things. Rhodey approached him slowly, cautiously, each step purposely loud to avoid startling Steve.

“Hey, calm down,” Rhodey said, voice softer than usual as though he was gentling a spooked animal. Steve nearly laughed. That was a fairly valid description. “Your bio readout wasn’t reading right while you were talking just now, okay. Whatever’s going on is _not_ just in your head.”

Relief punched the air out of Steve in a noisy exhale. He nodded and allowed Rhodey to guide him back over to the couch. They sat, bodies twisted towards each other and heads bent together as Rhodey examined the device.

“Mini, tell the man what you saw.”

“Of course, Colonel,” rang J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice through the device, tinny like the records Steve had grown up with. “Put simply, the elevated activity in certain sections of your brain is highly similar to the biological effects found in an individual on hallucinogenic substances.”

Like he was drugged? Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Steve tried to think of when that could have happened, but it would have to be one hell of a drug to last this long. “Only during the call?”

“No, Captain. My analysis shows the effect has considerably weakened but not dissipated.”

Realization bloomed on Rhodey’s face. “You’re always feeling cold now, right? What if that’s what’s being picked up right now? Like...someone’s figured out a way of causing constant, long-term hallucinations.”

“How is that even possible?”

“After all the weird crap that’s popped up lately?” Rhodey laughed. “Between alien gods, alien technology, freaky lab experiments, and mutants, I’m not putting anything out of the realm of possibility. Man, I’ve heard rumors of a woman who can control the weather and a guy who shoots lasers from his eyes. Someone who can mess with heads like this isn’t anywhere close to top-tier strange.”

There was a thought forming that maybe Steve should get his hands on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s threat list. Tactics and plans were already trying to assert themselves with far too little information to work with. But it was a start and a level of peace of mind Steve hadn’t experienced in days.

He gave Rhodey a bright, slightly mischievous smile. “Grab your jacket. I know exactly who we need to share this intel with, and she’s gonna knock my head if she finds out I didn’t go to her first thing. She hits too hard to go tempting fate.”

Something like giddiness flickered through Steve at the idea of someone from his new life meeting someone who had such a profound effect on his old. It seemed monumental to him, earth shaking in a way he actually welcomed.

And maybe, somewhere in the aftermath, Steve would finally figure out how exactly he fit.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not dead, I swear! Additional warnings for really shitty comments/attitudes towards mental illness and me playing fast and loose with comic and future MCU canon backstories.
> 
> I'm doing Camp NaNo next month but now that I know I can use it to finish a project, writing out the rest or a large chunk of this fic is going to be my goal.

Getting Rhodey and Peggy into a room together might have been one of the best ideas Steve had ever had. They played off each other beautifully, accepting the value of each other’s experience instead of competing over who was better qualified. They bounced ideas off each other, Peggy reining in Rhodey’s more outrageous ones without dismissing them, and Rhodey taking them down routes that wouldn’t have naturally occurred to Peggy or Steve.

The longer Steve watched them, the more he understood why Tony and Rhodey worked so well together. Peggy and Steve were inventive, but they were linear thinkers in the end, rarely taking huge flying leaps of logic to unconventional conclusions. Rhodey thought at a slant, reaching and accepting expected results then pushing things further. It was the kind of thinking that got flying suits of armor built in the first place.

It was Peggy’s show at the moment, and their base of operations had moved to her home at her insistence. Steve had been too relieved to argue, basking in his first cold-free moments in far too long thanks to a security measure Peggy had added since his last visit. Something about artificially generated mental shields that Steve didn’t quite understand.

Things had slowed to a crawl in the two days since the move. They’d gone over all the information gathered several times, exhausting it of any secrets. Time dragged on as they tried to keep themselves busy while they waited for Peggy’s inquiries to her ‘inside source’ to yield results.

Once other conversation had dried up, they turned unerringly to war stories. Not the battles, but the downtimes, the easy moments. Even those Steve had to carefully navigate. It was, in an ugly and ironic twist, the happier memories that often left him lost in the past.

Sometimes, when darker moods hit, the topic would turn to the things the three of them had seen over the years that still haunted them. Steve and Peggy had never talked about that on their own, as if through some silent agreement they had decided not tread those particular landmines.

It was easier, somehow, with Rhodey there. And it was cathartic, laying it all out in the open to people who carried their own demons and damage, knowing that when they winced, it was in empathy not disgust.

The best part was that Rhodey never questioned why he needed to be _Rhodey_ to Steve instead of another Jim or James in the collection Steve had unintentionally gathered.

It was the start of the third day when Peggy got a call that had her scowling within seconds. She didn’t say much in return, ending the call with a clipped ‘understood’ before turning to Steve.

“I hope your dress uniform is at the ready. You’re going to need it,” she said with a sour look. Her hands were pressed flat on the table as though looming over an invisible interrogation subject. “General Ross and S.H.I.E.L.D.’s W.S.C. watchdog have sprung a surprise meeting on Director Fury. They expect your attendance immediately, and they aren't willing to reschedule. They’ve also provided transportation.”

Rhodey shared a look with Steve. “Ross means this is probably about Dr. Banner.” He hesitated a second. “Unless he’s turning his sights on you, Steve.”

“Only one way to find out,” Steve said, voice calmer than the tight clench of his hands. He could already smell the blood escaping from the small cuts his fingernails had dug into his palms. “Please call Tony and see if he can make it. I’ve heard he’s got a...special way with the General.”

Rhodey was already dialing as Steve went outside to meet agents waiting for him.

***

Wearing any form of his actual service uniform was a pretty rare event. More often than not, Steve was in the suit making himself the largest target on the field so his Commandos had a better chance of making it out alive.

Of course, now that he was on a whole team with people in strange duds, that strategy didn’t work out quite as well.

As Steve shifted in his chair, the tie of his dress uniform feeling too tight around his neck, he longed for his suit. Ross, sitting across from him at the round table, had expressed one hell of a dislike for the costumes as soon as he had sat down. The longer he was in Ross’s presence, the more Steve wanted to annoy the hell out of him.

There’d been a chance to grab it, to feel somewhat comfortable in a meeting that would be anything but. He’d gone with the dress uniform because it was best armor against someone like Ross. A reminder that while Steve might not be completely up to date on current military practices, he also wasn’t some wide-eyed innocent who’d fall for Ross’ bullshit.

“What do you mean, you just let him leave?” Ross snapped, looking at the people around the table like they had all lost their minds. “You know how dangerous he is!”

“See, that’s the funny thing, once you actually talk to the guy, you realize all that smashing was a reaction to you _shooting at him_ ,” Tony said, impeccable in his business attire. He’d been waiting for them when Steve and Rhodey arrived in separate vehicles, the Iron Man suit already stowed back into its briefcase form. Fury hadn’t bothered to try keep Tony out. “Lay off the heavy artillery, jackass. You’d get less people killed.”

“Stop talking like you know anything about military procedure or tactics, Stark,” Ross shot back with a low growl.

“You mean like Colonel Rhodes and myself?” Steve asked with a nod towards Rhodey. They'd both said little since the meeting had gotten underway, letting Tony and Ross snipe at each other until Ross said something worth noting.

“Your solution to the so-called ‘Hulk problem’ has been to throw more men and weapons at him,” Steve said, expressions spelling out just how unimpressed her was. “That’s not a tactic, General. That’s reducing your men to fodder.”

“How exactly do you expect us to detain Dr. Banner?” Agent Hill asked from her place beside Fury. There was a slowness to her voice, something Steve suspected was as carefully calculated to get under Ross’ skin as Tony’s crudeness.

Ross’ gaze shifted from her to Steve. “You managed to detain him at Captain Rogers’ for nearly a month,” Ross pointed out, annoyance making the words sharp. He looked at Steve with the cold, detached interest someone observed a tool. “Clearly you have some method.”

“And how would you know that?” Fury asked, head cocked and fingers steepled. The worry and misery was still in the corners of his mouth and the lines under his eyes, but someone who didn’t know Fury at his best wasn’t likely to notice.

From across the room, Smith stirred from his contemplative silence to offer them all a benign smile. He wasn’t as oily as Clint had made him out to be, but Steve still found him far from charming. He was on the handsome side of forgettable and seemed to know it well enough to mistake himself for endearing.

“The World Security Council believes in the import of General Ross’ efforts,” Smith said. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice. “In this world of growing dangers, we’ve been forced to find new and better ways to ensure the public’s safety.”

“We know. S.H.I.E.L.D. is who usually comes in to clean up those messes. His included,” Hill said with a quick gesture towards Ross. An edge of contempt shined through on her otherwise blank face. “His methods are far from acceptable.”

“Your departmental differences aren’t my concern. The Super Soldier Project is,” Ross said with a sneer. It transformed into an ugly scowl as Tony scoff at him.

“You really are a one trick pony, aren’t you? Get a clue, Ross! Find a new obsession to ruin your life over.”

“Preferably one that leads to fewer dead servicemen and women,” Rhodey added, earning a sharp, startled look from Ross. Rhodey’s answering smile was more like a grimace. “I don’t know why you expected me to be on your side, General.”

“I don’t know why either. You hang around with that disgrace, stroking his already overblown ego for whatever the hell you’re getting out of it. If you’d rather hold hands and sing Kumbaya than act like a military man--”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Why are you even here, Rhodes?”

“Because if you tangle with the Hulk again, I’m probably going to be the first person they call in. Meaning your obsession would be putting either my life or my career at risk,” Rhodey answered, voice hard and flat. “And I’ve trained with some of those people whose lives you threw away. I’ve been to their funerals and seen their families grieve. Maybe I’m drawing a blank, but I don’t recall you ever getting off your ass to do the same.”

Ross drew himself up, hands curled into fists. Rhodey just stared back, daring him to swing. “You think some shiny suit of armor makes you a real hero? What gives you the ri--”

“General,” Steve cut in, not bothering to hide his anger, “watch your damn mouth. Colonel Rhodes and _all_ the Avengers are heroes, and as far as I’ve seen, you’re just a delusional psychopath. Maybe what Dr. Erskine did to me can be replicated, but it won’t be by someone like you. All you’ll make is more nightmares like Blonsky.”

“Or Banner and quite frankly, he makes you look pathetic by comparison,” Ross said. He had managed to regain some of his calm while Steve was talking, but the snarl hadn’t completely left his voice. “Now that we know the Hulk can be controlled, change at will, and judge friend from foe, you’re obsolete. Put a couple of guys like Banner on the field and you’ll win every battle.”

“Good thing you can’t replicate the results,” Hill drawled dismissively, cutting off whatever Tony had been about to say. “It’s been months since the attack on Manhattan. Why has it taken you this long to pester us?”

“Because Brian Banner’s new meds have finally evened him out enough for him to recognize his baby boy under all that green.”

The change in the air around Tony was almost tangible, and sat thick and foul on Steve’s tongue. He froze, confused. Whatever Tony knew hadn’t shown up in the file S.H.I.E.L.D. had given Steve. That had revolved solely around Hulk: incident summaries, including the initial accident, and estimated battle capabilities. There hadn’t even been a mention of Bruce’s birth date let alone his parents.

Steve hadn’t wanted to pry, hadn’t wanted to stumble across a topic that snagged at the rough edges of Bruce’s hard won peace of mind. He’d left it to Bruce to bring up the more intimate subjects. When those rare moments had occurred, Bruce had maneuvered the topics with care, each word purposeful and clearly thought out. His family and childhood had never entered any of those conversations.

Tony leaned back, his gaze raking over Ross. All his usual fidgeting and bursts of motion was stifled by the tension that had slipped into his body when Ross started in on Rhodey. “If you talked to that bastard about Bruce, I’m going to tear your whole fucking world down.”

A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. It didn’t occur to most people Tony was the sort of person who could carry that threat out to its full terrifying conclusion. He had the intelligence, money, influence, and drive to disassemble someone’s very being, to rip everything a person loved to shreds and wash his hands of it as easily as breathe. All it took was a hard enough push and a long enough fall and _any_ of the team could go bad, Steve included. There was a damn good reason they were all on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s watch list.

Ross, as expected of anyone who ran around trying to force Hulk to do anything he didn’t want, didn’t have the sense to take the warning seriously.

“He did all the talking. Hell, that’s what brought him to our attention, him screaming and yelling to anyone who’d listen that he always knew his kid was a monster.” There was an ugly curve to Ross’ lips that resembled a smile. “All I wanted to know about was the nuclear explosion he survived before Bruce Banner was conceived.”

“Excuse me?” Steve asked, directing it at everything that had just come out of Ross’s mouth. As subtle as possible, he sucked in a breath and clamped his teeth down on the urge to say something harsher.

Ross could have been exaggerating but the unsettling shift in Tony’s behavior said he believed every word.

It made Steve want to talk to Brian Banner himself, just talk no matter how angry the man might make him, so he could better understand what made Bruce tick, made him so nervous around aggression. Steve had thought it was because Bruce didn’t want to trigger a transformation, but now…

Now, Tony was threatening to destroy people and all because of a man Steve was pretty sure Tony had never met.

“What are you talking about?” Fury asked. His gaze slid over Tony, sizing up the situation for potential disaster, before shifting to stare down Ross.

“Banner’s mental case father got himself and a large portion of the facility he worked at blown up because he couldn’t keep his head out of a bottle,” Ross answered, tone condescending. A muscle in Steve’s jaw jumped. “He was given a full bill of health afterward, but he’s been claiming for years that it altered his DNA. No one’s paid attention until now. People don’t really listen to crazies and wife killers.”

“Wha--”

“And you think he might be right?” Fury asked, cutting into what Steve had been about to say. “You think Dr. Banner survived his accident because his father’s DNA got scrambled.”

Hill shook her head, expression one of disbelief. “Even if that’s the case, no one in their right mind is going to sanction a series of nuclear ‘accidents’ just so you can have better shock troops.”

Ross grinned, making Rhodey growl softly and Steve want to do something to wipe the smug look off his face. “After the invasion and how easily we could have lost? Oh, I could definitely get clearance. I just need samples from Banner.”

“Sterns had gallons of Dr. Banner’s synthesized blood. What happened to that?” Fury asked as he narrowed his eye at Ross.

“All destroyed,” Ross answered, expression sour. “And we want more than just blood.”

“Not going to happen unless he gives permission,” Steve insisted, crossing his arms over his chest. He wanted to ask about the earlier comment, the ‘wife killer’ part, but he forced himself to leave it. He suspected any prying he did would do more harm than good.

“He’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s monster now. The U.S. government won’t take kindly to Fury having sole ownership of such a powerful weapon.”

Beside him, Tony let out a bitter laugh but he subsided quickly, no doubt sensing the calm Steve was wrapping around himself like armor. Steve sat up straighter, drawing forth every ounce of authority in him and sending it crashing down on Ross’ thick skull.

“Let me explain a few things to you,” Steve said. His voice was tranquil, measured. His eyes were hard, flat chips of ice. “First, Dr. Banner is a man. Not a monster or a weapon, but a man.”

Ross sneered and opened his mouth to argue. Glaring, Steve continued. “No, General. Talks are over. Negotiations are over. You are going to sit back, shut up, and listen.

“Second, no one has _ownership_ of Dr. Banner. He is a free citizen and the only person with a right to say what he will and won’t do is the man himself.

“Third,” and with that one word Steve’s voice dropped a little, grew slow and dark and knife-sharp, “no one screws with my team, General. No one hurts them or threatens them. Now, I might not have Mr. Stark’s intelligence or Director Fury’s manpower, but I will do everything in my power to protect my own. You really don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

Ross stared at him for a moment then laughed, his expression a mix of shock, disbelief, and amusement. Steve smiled at him, polite and bland, as he waited for the laughter to die. Everyone else was staring at Steve: Hill’s face was carefully blank, Fury’s expression was considering with an edge of approval. Rhodey and Tony, though, were giving him wide grins.

When Ross quieted down, Fury shifted his attention to him. “Unless you have something else to discuss, I’d say that brings this little talk to an end.”

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Steve stood and nodded at Fury and Hill. “Director. Commander,” he said by way of goodbye. He ignored Ross completely much to Tony’s amusement and Ross’ annoyance.

Tony was quiet as he and Rhodey followed Steve out of the room, just grinning until the door closed behind them. “I think you’re my new hero. No, I _know_ you are and that’s saying something because I kind of hated your guts growing up.”

“The love I feel from you at this moment,” Steve said, allowing amusement to sneak past the white-hot anger filling him. He glanced behind him, eyeing the door with disdain. “What are we supposed to do about that jackass?”

“Punch him? Though with the way he’s acting, he’s specifically looking for a big green fist to the face,” Rhodey said with a shrug. His tone and eyes weren’t as nonchalant as the gesture, his own anger still barely held in check.

Steve looked at him and sighed. He sucked in a slow breath and held it, letting some of the anger and tension leave him on the exhale. “I think I need to go for a walk.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll be here,” Rhodey promised, seeming not to notice when Tony gave an exaggerated groan and grabbed his hand.

“Shoo before honeybear forgets I’m the guy he’s supposed to have the huge crush on,” Tony said and waved Steve away.

Blowing Rhodey a kiss, Steve made his escape to the sound of Rhodey’s laughter and Tony’s indignant huffing.

 

Steve didn’t so much as startle when Clint fell into step with him sometime later. Clint’s expression was mild, emotions carefully hidden away in what Steve was starting to understand was S.H.I.E.L.D. training. Scent didn’t lie, however, and Steve’s nose easily picked up the negative swirl of emotions following him. Anger was the most prominent, but the heavy thread of anxiety running through it was what worried Steve the most.

“Heard your meeting went about as well as can be expected from a pompous jackass,” Clint said after a long stretch of silence. He gave Steve’s bicep a light smack with the back of his hand when Steve began to interrupt. When he was sure Steve would hold his tongue, Cling continued in a low whisper. “That room almost never sees any action because of a construction flaw. Stand next to a certain vent in the basement, and you can hear every word loud and clear.”

He glanced over at Steve to weigh his reaction. “Thought you’d approve of an extra set of ears.”

“Can’t say you’re wrong,” Steve admitted. His nostrils flared as he caught the faint scent of food, the low murmur that accompanied it telling him they were near the mess. “So, what are your thoughts.”

“I’ll tell you after I tempt you away with the promise of fast food,” Clint said, critical gaze fixed on Steve.

“I told Tony and Jim I’d just be walking.” It was a weak argument. He was as reluctant as Clint to discuss this in a building full of spies. And it seemed dealing with a ‘pompous jackass’ could really build up an appetite.

Clint snorted. “After Ross, I think they both need their own chance to cool down. Let ‘em go on a date or something while I steal you.”

Steve shook his head, but let himself be led into a different hall. They took a series of twists and turns that eventually dumped them back onto the parking lot where Rhodey had been directed to park. Rhodey and Tony were sitting in Rhodey’s car, heads bent close in conversation. Feeling guilty for interrupting, Steve knocked on the window to get their attention.

“Back so soon?” Rhodey asked as soon as the window was down. Worry colored the words, and his eyes flicked around the parking lot as if searching out a potential enemy.

Steve smiled, touched at how ready Rhodey was to back him up if he needed it. “Clint’s commandeering me for a little while. See you guys later?”

“Rhodey sure,” Tony answered, giving Rhodey’s shoulder a heavy pat. “But I’ve got to get back before the sharks notice Pepper’s alone and start circling. The world’s just not ready for the kind of retribution she’d deliver.”

“He’s probably right. You can’t be with a guy like Tony without secretly being as bad as him,” Rhodey said with a wince, but his expression was fond. “You’ll call if you need anything?”

Steve promised, not bothering to hide his smirk as Tony glared at his unrepentant boyfriend. He watched the pair ride out of the parking lot, playfully arguing the whole time, before letting Clint lead him off to another car.

They traded small talk throughout the drive, not trusting the car to be clean. The important conversation ended up happening on a park bench after braving the line at the drive-thru for something greasy and bad for them both.

“I think,” Clint said, eyes staring off into the distance, “that Fury’s bosses are desperately trying to get rid of a problem before it hits them full force.”

“Us?” Steve asked, but he couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. Trust was never something he had fully extended to S.H.I.E.L.D. and its masters. “Well, there was the nuke.”

Clint shook his head. “They were trying to sabotage the Initiative before that. Seen the footage of Banner’s fight with the Abomination?” He waited for Steve to nod. “They wanted to blame it all on Banner and put _Blonsky_ on the team. Just sweep all the death and damage he caused in Harlem under the rug and call him a hero.”

Steve leveled a long, disbelieving look on him. After the nuke, Steve had been leaning towards thinking the Council was full of idiots. Now he knew it with absolute certainty. There was no way to pass off Blonsky’s actions as heroic, not with him killing his own and citizens alike, not after Hulk had been needed to stop his rampage. No one with a brain would try to dress Blonsky up as the good guy.

But, from Steve’s understanding, Blonsky was morally bankrupt and obsessed, a combination that had led to more than a few twisted alliances. Maybe the Council believed they could have gotten Blonsky to act the way they wanted for awhile. Or maybe they had just been hoping he would slaughter the rest of the team during their first mission.

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed with a grim smile. “And it’s not looking any better with Weasel-face and Ross suddenly being buddies.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. He was too tired and angry to handle thinking about the disaster Blonsky getting loose would cause. Not to mention it smelled funny, like another tactic to put Bruce back in arm’s length of everyone looking to screw him over.

Sighing, Steve admitted to himself that there was no way to handle this without a huge risk. Reaching out to warn Bruce might give his location away. Convincing Bruce to seek protection in Tony’s tower would make him easier to find and harass. And if the Council was willing to go so far as to use Blonsky, Steve doubted they were above purposely provoking Hulk to attack.

“I can’t deal with this right now. Got an update on Natasha?”

Clint scowled. He glanced over long enough for Steve to see the worry coloring his gaze. “The op is going to take longer than expected. A lot longer.”

“And that has you worried,” Steve finished with a frown. “Don’t trust her partner?”

“What, Sam?” Clint asked with wide eyes, a bark of laughter startling out of him. “No, he’s _great_. Sam’ll question every single one of your stupid decisions and still back you up every step of the way. He’s good people.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush there.”

Clint snorted and shook his head. “Definitely. I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m the team’s token straight guy, barring whatever Thor is, but I wouldn’t mind making out with Sam. He’s definitely cute,” Clint said with an exaggerated bat of his eyes that did nothing to cover his sincerity. “But my obvious crush aside, Nat really does have good back up. It’s just...they don’t usually run in the same circles, op-wise. Completely different skill sets.”

“You didn’t point this out before.”

“That’s because I didn’t know it would take so long. Something short and their styles mesh fine. Longer...”

Steve nodded, hearing what Clint hadn’t said. “There a reason Agent Wilson becomes a sacrificial lamb here?”

For a brief moment, Clint looked incredibly lost, so bewildered Steve was tugging him into a hug without a thinking it through first. Reflex had Clint tensing to attack, but he quickly relaxed into the embrace before returning it with equal force.

“This is going to sound so damn vain,” he said when they pulled apart.

“Tell me anyway, Clint. It might not be as out there as you think.”

Clint hesitated a second then let out a sigh. “I think it’s to get at me.” Wincing, he rushed to explain. “Sam’s on call but his main thing is counseling military vets, people trying to readjust to life after... It’s not what I’m going through, but I feel way more comfortable talking to him than some company shrink who might be in someone’s pocket. Now more than ever.”

He fell silent. Steve waited, something in Clint’s expression saying he wasn’t quite finished. The silence stretched between them long enough for it to start sinking in that if the Council really was responsible, Steve’s team might be in for one hell of an uphill fight. Experience had taught him well that taking on an organization--and there was no doubt in Steve’s mind that they would try to turn S.H.I.E.L.D. against the Avengers--was neither easy nor without sacrifice.

“Okay, getting a little personal here. More than it already has,” Clint quietly warned, dragging Steve from the dark turn of his thoughts. Clint was staring at his hands, expression just open enough for Steve to see that he was uncomfortable.

“I’m a Switch.” Clint said it with no self-incrimination, no disgust, but his discomfort didn’t lessen in the least. “Which is pretty awesome, prejudices aside. When I get stressed, I tend to lean more towards Sub. It spills over into my day to day relationships with certain people. Nothing heavy, just more likely to run errands and follow orders without any lip.”

Steve digested that for a second, trying to remember if Bucky had been in anyway similar. No, stress had only made Bucky more standoffish, more inclined to sneer in the face of an order. And while falling into Hydra’s hands had changed that--had made him quieter, more malleable in a way Steve still found eerie--Steve knew that had been due to trauma and not a normal part of Bucky’s personality.

“Natasha’s one of those people.”

“And Sam,” Clint agreed. “If it was just Nat, I wouldn’t think it had anything to do with me, you know? She’s _Nat_ , for Christs sake. But I can’t think of anything Sam could have done to get on our shadowy overlords’ shit list. Manhattan becoming a war-zone brought up some nasty memories for a lot of his vets. He’s been too busy to take missions.”

“Maybe one of them told him something they shouldn’t have,” Steve suggested but knew he was grasping at straws.

Knowing that made the hopeful look that crossed Clint’s face more heartbreaking. “Maybe. Messed up for me to pray that’s it, right? But I don’t want anyone else to die because of me. Not if they don’t deserve it, anyway.”

“Do Fury and Hill know your suspicions?”

“Yeah, but they can’t do much about them at the moment.” Clint shrugged at the sharp look Steve gave him. “That meeting was Fury’s last act as Director before being put on forced leave so he can ‘properly grieve his loss’. And Hill’s going to have Weasel-face breathing down her neck as she takes over. She’ll do great even with all the scrutiny, but she’s still going to have her every move monitored.”

Office politics and spy games didn’t come naturally to Steve, but he knew a tactical retreat when he heard one. Try as he might, Steve couldn’t imagine what Fury’s next move would be. Whatever it was, Steve didn’t place much hope he wouldn’t get caught up in it eventually.

***

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve muttered when he entered Peggy’s home hours later only to find Fury waiting there like he’d been summoned through stray thoughts alone. Rhodey shared a look with Steve, looking just as confused and surprised. Peggy rolled her eyes, finished taking the sip Steve’s entrance had interrupted, and set her glass down with an air of authority.

“Behave, Steve. That’s no way to treat my inside source.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me,” Steve repeated because being caught off balance wasn’t going to make him any less surly at the moment. He met Peggy’s unimpressed expression with disbelief. “No, you don’t get it. Clint and I were just... You know what, never mind. He’s got intel, and I have someone I need to punch for messing with my head.”

The smile Fury gave him was as sharp and deadly as a knife. “Always happy to be of service, Captain.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I removed the Thor/Jane tag because I have no idea when either will show up. In the original version of this fic, Thor was back by now, Jane and Selvig with him, but this rewrite stopped resembling the original forever ago.

Vivienne Hayes. Alias. Real name: unknown. Date of Birth: unknown. Nationality: unknown. Known abilities: firearm proficiency, hand to hand combat, use of telepathy to create hallucinations in victims within a hundred foot range.

Steve had been going through the file since Fury had left, reading the pertinent information over and over again. What little there was of it anyway. Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed but he remembered fitfully sleeping. Breakfast. Lunch. It all blurred together.

He’d studied the photos that were attached, trying to recognize the woman they captured. She was middle aged, small but solid in a way that emphasized the threat she could pose even without her mutant power. Her dark eyes were hard, her expression severe, and her head was as cleanly shaven as Fury’s.

Steve had never seen her before in his life.

Which meant nothing at all, according to the included incident reports. One of her mental tricks was ‘erasing’ things from view, something she routinely did to herself due to how close she had to get to affect a target.

“It might not be her, you know?” Rhodey said as he passed Steve to help Peggy fix dinner.

Steve nodded slowly, not looking up from the file. He felt a surge of guilt for not helping too, but he couldn’t seem to move. “I know. But if it is her, she had to have been in my apartment building the whole time. She had to have followed me here and just...sat outside the house.”

A chill ran through Steve, nothing like the cold that had haunted him and everything like an icy splinter of terror.

“Alright,” Peggy said slowly, drying off her hands. She walked over and swept the various documents he’d been eying back into the file. “I think you’ve read this enough times. All you’re doing is scaring yourself now.”

“I think I probably _should_ be scared. How are we supposed to stop her?”

Peggy ran a hand through his hair before hugging him tight. “There are portable versions of the inhibitor installed here. And there are also devices that can temporarily disable mutant powers. Not to mention the friendly mutants we can turn to for help. A single mutant doing wrong is usually viewed as a mark against the whole lot.”

Steve had sometimes seen the reports of mutants fighting mutants, protecting people who would still treat them like monsters later. He’d also seen the people carrying signs filled with hate, hearts filled with hate, damning people just for being born. It made him ill anytime someone talked about rounding mutants up, shutting them away or killing them.

He nodded, but he didn’t want it to involve any more mutants if he could help it. He didn’t want what had happened to him to be used by some fanatic as proof a whole group of people deserved to die. If they handled this quiet enough, maybe it wouldn’t make the news.

Hours later, he was trying--and monumentally failing--to sleep when a knock came. Peggy was letting Fury in by the time Steve reached the living room. The speed at which she’d answered and the lack of surprise on her face told Steve she had probably been waiting for Fury’s return.

“Hill’s been keeping eyes on Rogers’ apartment building. An hour ago, a group of men manhandled a woman into an SUV. There are agents--trusted ones--following as we speak,” Fury said by way of greeting, features creasing with annoyance.

Peggy frowned and made a small thoughtful noise. “Hayes?”

“Fits the description.”

“The timing of this sound a little suspicious to anyone else?” Rhodey asked as he came into the room. He looked tired but his eyes were bright with focus.

“Oh, it’s _definitely_ suspicious,” Fury agreed with a scowl. “Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t touch this mess with a ten foot pole.”

“But it might be our only chance to take her into custody alive if she’s not already dead,” Peggy pointed out. “She’s between a rock and a hard place, and she’s too smart not to know it. She’ll be begging to flip on her employer.” A heavy sigh escaped her. “Which is probably what they’re hoping we’ll realize.”

Steve let out an ugly bark of laughter. “So our choices are walk into what’s probably a trap or lose the best lead we’ve got on who’s responsible for all this.” He grit his teeth around the words, not bothering to hide the snap of anger. “Well, I hate to disappoint them after they’ve gone through all this work.”

He turned to Rhodey. “You don’t have to be part of this.”

“Already am,” Rhodey said, offering Steve a small smile. “I said I was going to see you through this, and I am. Besides, if this leads to the same people going after Stark Industries, it affects me just as much as you.”

“Great, I’ll get the guns,” Peggy announced and walked off with Steve staring at her in open horror.

Lurching into action, he trailed after her, trying to figure out the best way to say what he was thinking without receiving a well deserved glare or worse. He had a feeling there was no way to avoid it.

“Peggy--”

“Don’t you dare tell me to stay here and be safe,” Peggy waspishly snapped. Bending down, she pressed against part of the molding and a section of the wall sprung open, revealing a substantial amount of weapons and gear. “They know where I live. If this is a trap and it doesn’t go their way, who else are they going to target to get to you, hmm? It’s far too early to move on Clint, not with the way they’re going about it. And Natasha and your runaway scientist are presumably out of reach. No, if they fail, they may very well come straight here, and I don’t plan to be present when they do.”

“What if they recognize you?”

Peggy laughed. “They won’t. I’m a creaky old woman. We all look alike once we reach a certain age.”

“You don’t,” Steve said and pressed a kiss to Peggy’s cheek. “You’re beautiful. If they can’t pick you out of a crowd, they’re idiots.”

She gave him a pleased smile. “That’s exactly what we’re hoping for.”

***

Steve couldn’t help but feel insulted by the lack of creativity. The SUV transporting Hayes had eventually ended up in Jersey at an honest to god abandoned factory in the middle of nowhere. No one had come or gone since but, peering down from his vantage point, Steve could see a scraggly excuse for a patrol marching around the building.

“This is just offensive,” Rhodey muttered with a sigh, slowly adjusting his position beside Steve. Peggy was in a car nearby, not content but she openly admitted she wasn’t as spry as she used to be. Steve found the vaguely unsettling way she petted her semi-automatic cute.

Fury made a low, annoyed sound. No one had questioned him taking a more active role in the retrieval. Shooting people seemed his brand of grieving. “Sad, is what it is. Should be praying it’s all as pathetically uninspired as this but...”

Steve nodded. It was a stupid thing to hope but there was something so infuriating about the idea any of them had been blindsided by an operation this shoddy.

“Men,” Peggy said with a sigh and turned to the woman beside her. “They’re idiots but I’m quite fond of all of them. Protect them from themselves, Melinda?”

Steve didn’t know Agent Melinda May, but both Peggy and Fury trusted her enough to coax her away from her desk job for this. Her displeasure over that was obvious from the way she glared at everything. She seemed genuinely fond of both Peggy and Fury though, and she had balked at the idea of letting either of them walk into a trap without her as backup.

May hesitated before answering, her expression torn between uncertainty, annoyance, and amusement. “I’m sure they can manage on their own, idiocy notwithstanding,” she said after shooting Fury a look as if to assess whether he’d take it well. He gave her a honest laugh in response as he handed out those anti-mutant devices Peggy had mentioned earlier. “We should have brought backup for you.”

“Because I’m old?” Peggy asked without any anger. The ghost of a smile was on her lips.

“Because I like you. Who am I going to smack talk boys with if you get shot?”

Peggy considered that for a moment. “Hill. Now go. I’ll be fine. I still have a keen eye and enough bullets to down an elephant.”

They split into pairs--Fury with May and Rhodey with Steve--and took different directions. Going in blind, having to feel their way through a relatively large building, might have gone faster if they struck out individually but no one had liked the idea of going it alone. Steve was with May on wishing Peggy had someone with her too, preferably Clint, but he was finally taking the vacation Medical had started pushing months ago. Steve would bet his entire backpay Clint was headed to a nice locale with a lovely view of Natasha and Wilson’s operation.

Rhodey and Steve moved along the perimeter at a fast clip, subduing anyone they encountered as they searched for a way in. Traces of a familiar, comforting scent reached Steve’s nose. It failed to register as a threat so his mission-oriented state dismissed it, refusing to even take the time to identify it.

They found a door on the west side of the building. There were no windows or even a convenient crack they could peek through to see if the door was safe to try. After a moment of silently mouthing at each other, they took the risk.

It paid off in the form of a large, cluttered but unpopulated space. It looked like a storage area, the contents haphazardly scattered and forgotten to time. Their feet left footprints in the layer of dust that covered the floor as they made for the only other door in the room. Praying it wasn’t rusted, Steve carefully edged it open just enough to look inside.

There were two floors. The second was about half as wide as the first and bordered by a rusty, dilapidated rail that Steve could imagine some boss leaning over as their employees slaved away on the rows of abandoned machines below. No one stood there now, but occasionally a shape would pass by one the small windows that dotted the second story walls. If someone did come out, Rhodey and Steve could duck behind the machines to avoid being seen. Unfortunately, that potential cover also hid any incoming enemies from their view.

“Status?” Steve asked and waited, gaze constantly shifting to catch what he could through the crack as Rhodey watched their backs. He frowned as his nose tried to differentiate the tangle of scents hitting it. Too many people and too fresh for them to be anywhere but upstairs.

“We’re in some sort of loading area but have eyes on the next room,” Fury answered. “Lots of old machinery and a open second floor that’ll make us easy to spot.”

“Looking at the same. We could use the machinery for cover, at least.”

“I definitely wouldn’t recommend that,” came in answer, making Rhodey shoot him a startled look and May cursed. Only months of hearing that voice every day kept Steve from fearing they’d already been compromised. “Ms. Carter let me borrow her comm. I can give it back to confirm that if you want.”

It was Fury who responded first. “Not yet. Please explain, Banner.”

“The machinery’s electrified. Second floor rails too. I’m not sure if it’s enough to kill but...”

“But it’d still be enough to slow us down for a bullet,” Rhodey finished, scowling. “Any other surprises?”

There was a beat then, “The building was rigged to blow, but I disabled the bomb. If there’s another one, I haven’t found it, but I’ve only gotten so far with that small army upstairs.”

“How are you here?” May asked, not bothering to keep the distrust out of her voice.

Bruce made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a bitten off snicker. “Tony contacted me then flew me in. Then _Agent Hill_ contacted me and flew me here because she didn’t need the extra paperwork your deaths would cause her. You weren’t here yet so I decided to look around.”

May’s urge to ask Bruce how he got inside the building was practically palatable. Steve couldn’t be bothered to question it, having gathered from past conversations Bruce was something of an old hand at getting into places he didn’t belong.

Instead, May asked, “How do we know we can trust you?”

“They’re talking to my father,” Bruce answered, his voice going rough around the edges. “I’d rather see them burn than help them.”

The silence that followed was tense and startled, almost nervous even. The vehemence in Bruce’s voice reminded Steve of Tony’s violent reaction to the news. There was something very unnerving about these displays of rage in people who worked hard to tailor a specific image of themselves.

“Wow, you guys really are screwed,” Bruce said suddenly. The false cheer in his voice sounded like it pained him. “Lots of people with guns heading toward the building.”

“Get Peggy out of there.”

“She’s got a gun and a terrifying glare. I’m leaving her where she wants to be left,” Bruce answered with something like genuine amusement. “I’ve got a better idea: the Other Guy deals with the people out here and you handle the ones in there.”

Before Steve could snap at Bruce to do what he said, heavily armed men and women began filing out of the upstairs rooms and descending the stairs. Even with gloves on, they were careful not to touch the rails with hands or weapons.

“Do it, Banner,” Fury growled.

Seconds later, Hulk’s roar tore through the air, startled yells and gunfire following. The people inside jolted into action, trying to get down the stairs as fast as possible without electrocuting themselves.

“I’m fine, Steve,” Peggy said through the comm, fast and clipped as though she knew exactly where Steve’s mind had gone. “Their attention’s on him and he’s nowhere near me. Focus on your end.”

Sucking in a breath, Steve centered himself. He shared a look with Rhodey who nodded in return, steady as a rock and ready to fight beside him. “We’re engaging now. Fury, hit them with a flash grenade as soon as you’re out.”

Bursting through the door, Steve covered Rhodey with his shield as Rhodey rattled off shot after shot in the seconds of surprise offered them. A heavy bang somewhere beyond the rows of machines followed, and the quickly recovering enemies divided their attention in two directions.

“Incoming,” Fury warned, just loud enough for the comms. Steve tugged Rhodey to a kneeling position with him, using the shield to cover them as the world burst into pure light.

Rhodey dropped two people as soon as the light died. Another seven fell in the rain of bullets that followed, some the victims of friendly fire as blinded allies shot back on instinct.

Steve aimed for the nearest wall and tossed his shield. It bounced off the concrete with a clang, smacking a man in the chest so he stumbled back into a woman, knocking them both down. The shield bounced off a second man before returning to Steve, putting him in the perfect position for Rhodey.

Running forward, Steve knocked an enemy back with a kick before spinning to strike another with his shield. He dropped low to avoid a bullet, sweeping the legs out from under a new target so he could slam the shield down hard on his back. Steve barely registered the crack of bone as he lurched back up, leading this his shield so it caught someone with the upswing.

Rhodey and Fury strafed behind the machines, using the dubious cover they still offered to take any of the shots aimed at them and the gaps in between to return fire. Bodies dropped around Steve as Rhodey and Fury’s bullets found their marks, making it harder to move without tripping over someone.

Steve ducked back a little as a recovering enemy took aim at him only to have their knee taken out with a vicious snap of May’s foot. She quickly snapped their neck and used the body to absorb a burst of bullets. Steve shook off his surprise and arced his shield up just in time to avoid being stabbed.

They worked together after that, fighting off individual enemies as he would cover May or she would take out anyone who aimed at Steve while he was focusing elsewhere. Hulk’s roars and the distant, dying rattle of gunfire acted as a soundtrack to a fight quickly winding down.

The last few enemies seemed to know they were beat. Steve could see them gearing up to take one last desperate stand. Their movements were sloppy and their eyes wide with panic and fear. It made them easier to take down.

“Enough!” a male voice snapped after the last body fell.

Steve risked a glance upward. On the second floor stood a thin man with wild eyes, his expression set in a snarl. He held Hayes in front of him, left arm wrapped around her neck and hand clasped around some sort of switch. In his right hand was a knife aimed at Hayes’s kidney. She was clearly drugged, her body hanging too loose and her eyes too slow at tracking everything, but the scowl on her face said she was aware of what was happening around her.

“I refuse to let simpletons get the better of me,” he shouted, but he sounded calmer than the savage gleam in his eyes indicated.

Steve recognized that fervor. He’d seen it on the face of Dr. Erskine’s assassin before he’d committed suicide.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but if we all must die for the Master’s will to be done...” the man said, flipping the switch with wide, rictus smile.

Nothing happened.

Hayes, even drugged, caught on faster than he captor. Her harsh laughter filled the room. “So much for your bomb, Eld,” she hissed.

The hand holding the knife had gone slack in Eld’s surprise. Hayes snapped her head backward, catching him on the nose. He stumbled back with a cry and she followed, grabbing his right arm and twisting. The bone gave way with a loud snap, and he buckled under the weight of the pain, dropping the knife.

“I want to make a deal!” Hayes shouted over his scream. She scooped up the weapon and slit Eld’s throat in one clean--if shaky--motion.

“And why the hell should I give you one,” Fury asked, voice like ice as he drew closer.

“Because I know the location of your Agent Coulson,” she answered, not bothering to see what effect her words had on him. She dropped the knife and crawled away from the growing pool of blood. “We were hired by the Ten Rings. Some asshole called the Mandarin. He double crossed us. I owe him nothing.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see Fury go still, back ramrod straight and hand tightening around the gun.

“Is Coulson alive?” Fury asked, voice too flat and harsh to convey anything like hope. This was a man asking about an operative, not a husband asking if he was really a widower. Steve didn’t think he could compartmentalize like that. “And who is ‘we’?”

Hayes let out a low growl and began to shakily descend the stairs. Sighing, Steve helped her. He didn’t want to touch her at all, but if she really knew Coulson’s location and she accidentally electrocuted herself before spilling, Steve would never forgive himself.

Hayes waited until she could take a few stumbling steps away from the stairs before answering. “Yes, Coulson is alive. ‘We’ is my Sub Lincoln and I. The man with the Chitauri armor who Rogers fought. You’ll want him out of your cells as soon as possible and this deal only happens if you release him, alive and with no further harm.”

She stumbled over to Fury, holding his gaze with glassy but determined eyes. “We need to move quickly. If they kill Lincoln before he’s freed, there’s no deal. If they move your Agent Coulson before you reach him, my information will be useless.”

“Or if they kill him first,” Rhodey said, eyes hard as they met Hayes’.

“They won’t.” Hayes scowled, glancing around the small group glaring at her. “They’ve kept him alive all this time for a reason. They won’t abandon their plan that easily. They’re too stupid.”

Fury sized her up then produced a pair of handcuffs from his coat. He restrained her without a word, the sharp hiss of her exhale saying he had purposely made the clasp too tight. Steve carefully checked the nearest exit, sniffing the air to make sure no one was lying in wait.

The sight that greeted them outside was...interesting. An SUV had landed near the building, tires in the air and the roof crumpled inward from the impact. Bodies littered the ground, some shot, some tossed about. There didn’t appear to be a single survivor to bring in for questioning.

They found Hulk sitting where the mission had started. Peggy was in his lap, which was equal parts ridiculous and adorable until it occurred to Steve that Hulk was using his body to shield her. Peggy seemed fine, though, smiling as she talked about--

Oh.

“Oh god, you are _not_ telling him about basic training.”

“You were so tiny and feisty,” Peggy said, her shrug matching the lack of apology in her voice and expression. She turned away for a moment to watch Fury shove Hayes in the car.

Hulk gave Steve a wicked grin. “Still tiny.”

“What are you, twelve feet?” Steve snapped back with a laugh. He felt a little hysterical, like now that he was coming out of mission mode, all the adrenaline and craziness of the whole situation was finally hitting him. He must have sounded as out there as he felt if the looks Peggy and Hulk gave him were anything to go by.

“There isn’t enough room for everyone in the car,” Peggy said, stretching up to kiss Hulk’s cheek before slipping out of his lap. “I think it’d be best if Steve hitched a ride with you.”

“Do I get a say?”

“No,” Peggy and Hulk answered in unison, making Steve laugh again. It sounded wrong even to his own ears.

Peggy cupped his cheeks, thumbs skimming where the helmet’s straps met his skin as if she was thinking of taking it off. “Let the very nice boy give you a ride home, Steve. I think you both need it.”

She was heading for the car before Steve’s addled brain could catch on. Hulk grabbed him up with something like a rough purr, nose brushing Steve’s face and neck as Hulk loudly sniffed him. Steve rolled his eyes when he noticed he was being cradled like a baby, but he hugged Hulk as best he could in the position.

“Missed you guys,” he muttered into Hulk’s neck then settled back into his arms. Hulk’s grip tightened for a second and his mouth pressed against the exposed skin of Steve’s jaw before he straightened out. “Well, you heard the lady, handsome. You’re my ride home. Wherever that is now.”

Because that sure as hell wasn’t the apartment anymore. Not after how easily it had been compromised. It was starting to look like Tony would get his giant, costumed slumber party after all.

There was time to think about that later, though, after they’d dealt with Hayes and maybe found Coulson in the progress. Not to mention General Ross and the W.S.C and--

Body-warm metal dug into Steve’s palm. Opening his hand, he found his dog tags, miraculously unharmed despite the grip he’d had on them. He didn’t remember opening the suit enough to get them. He ran a thumb over the the indented words and letters and pressed his cheek against Hulk’s chest.

“We’ve got you,” Hulk said and began following the car at a gentle run.

The ride was bumpy and their combined body heat was going to have Steve drenched in sweat pretty soon, but Steve still fell asleep with the heavy thud of Hulk’s heart in his ears.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever because I've rewritten it like three times, been agonizing over every word, and I've been either melting or konked out in heat/allergy medicine induced sleep because we have no air conditioning.
> 
> This isn't very long for all that time it took but it's vital? And I'm already editing the next chapter.

Smith was waiting for them when they reached the Fridge, benign smile at the ready as he hovered like a vulture. Steve was starting to get why Clint hated him so much.

The smile faltered a little when he caught sight of Bruce, but Smith recovered quickly. Minimal protest was given over the unauthorized mission and Fury’s insistence that he would be handling Hayes and Lincoln personally. He didn’t even ask where Hayes, May, and Rhodey were.

Steve could almost feel the Council pulling their influence back, leaving this Mandarin person to take full responsibility for the mess as they covered any trace of their involvement that hadn’t already been hidden. 

But even a partial retreat meant they might not be ready to make an open move on S.H.I.E.L.D. That was something, at least. 

The entire experience seemed to be setting Bruce on edge. Steve had suggested he go with the others to secure Hayes, but Bruce had just smiled in a way that bore too many teeth and refused. Now he trailed after Fury and Peggy as they led the way to the cells, nervousness radiating off of him as he walked close to Steve. 

According to Hayes, her Sub Lincoln was the man in Chitauri armor whose gang Steve and Hulk had taken down, and getting caught had absolutely been the intent. Lincoln was a mutant, who along with increased strength and resistance had a very devastating power in this modern digital age. He could ‘talk’ to machines, slip passed security measures in a matter of seconds without causing a blip, and store every ounce of information he retrieved in his head like a hard drive. If a computer could do it, so could he. All he needed was access, and he didn’t even have to leave his cell to get it.

But it came with a price. The longer Lincoln was connected, the more he thought like a machine, ignoring human needs and fixating on whatever mission he’d had in mind like it was his sole purpose for existing. He wasn’t supposed to have been here so long--trolling through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s records, implanting false information or sending intel back to his employer--but this Mandarin guy and W.S.C. had clearly had other plans.

When they reached his cell, Lincoln was nothing like the man Steve had taken down months ago. His gaze was glassy and unfocused, blank eyes never moving and hardly blinking. He’d lost muscle mass, the prison garb hanging off his thin frame. A full, untamed beard covered most of his lower face and he was sitting in his own filth.

Peggy made a soft, annoyed noise as she read the screen of a device she held near the wall. “It’s off,” she said, shooting Fury a look. It took Steve a second to catch on, but eventually he realized she was talking about whatever it was that was supposed to be keeping Lincoln from using his powers.

Lincoln went easily as they led him from the cell, compliant and mindless. As much as he hated to admit it, Steve felt a pang of sympathy for him and Hayes. They were assholes, and he sure as hell wasn’t forgiving them for their roles in all this, but Lincoln’s condition was horrifying. He could almost imagine how Lincoln must have gotten this deep into the machines, that everyday someone had walked by and promised that if he did just a little more, they’d let him out.

They took him from the building without any resistance. Steve left it to Fury and Peggy to deal with Lincoln and get them all to whatever safe house May had taken Rhodey and Hayes. His focus was on Peggy and Bruce, just taking them in, enjoying having them both there even though the situation was such a mess. 

After switching their Quinjet for a SUV, they eventually ended up in an underground building that was about as comfortable as the prison they’d left. Fury led them through long, concrete halls full of doorless rooms until they reached an open space where Rhodey, May, and Hayes waited. 

Hayes jumped to her feet and tried to go to Lincoln, clearly forgetting about the chains and cuffs keeping her in her chair. She tripped and narrowly avoided colliding with the floor when May grabbing her by the collar from behind. Lincoln’s gaze flicked towards her, the barest hint of recognition entering his eyes before it died. It was his first reaction to anything since being moved. 

“I can’t use my powers so I’m assuming his are off as well,” Hayes said, gaze fixed on Lincoln’s face. Steve turned his head, uncomfortable with the helplessness and desperation on her face. “Please, could you bring him closer?”

Waiting until a second chair was pulled up and Lincoln was set before her, Hayes rattled off an address. There wasn’t enough slack for her to touch his face with her hands, so she leaned in as close as she could, babbling nonsense at him. Steve frowned, discomfort growing as he listened to Hayes trying coax her Sub back to awareness. 

“Bruce, could you come with me?” Steve asked. He ignored the curious looks he got from Fury and May and acknowledged Peggy and Rhodey’s amusement with a small smile. Bruce arched an eyebrow in silent question but followed anyway. 

“Well, this has been an interesting night,” Bruce said after they’d wandered out of earshot. Normal human range anyway. There was always the high chance there were bugs everywhere.

Steve nodded, a smile closer to a grimace on his face. “Yeah, I’m almost feeling sorry for a couple assholes who tried to drive me mad and get Natasha killed.”

“Everyone has bad moments,” Bruce said with a small shrug. “It doesn’t make their other actions any less awful.”

Steve’s smile grew into something more genuine. “Thanks. Hey, come here?” 

He led Bruce into one of those empty, doorless rooms. Bruce came with obvious suspicion and a slight crook of his mouth.

“What do you want?”

“Just to say hello,” Steve promised. When Bruce came into range, Steve pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his lips that was more question than passion.

Bruce returned it, hot and slow like he was savoring it, committing every shift of lips and tongue to memory in case he never got to experience it again. Cradling Steve’s head in both hands, blunt nails a pleasant presence running over his scalp, Bruce guided the angle and led the kiss while Steve let himself melt into the contact.

“What does hello entail?” Bruce asked after pulling back a little, absently licking his lips.

Steve watched the slick glide of tongue over skin and shivered. “Whatever you’ll let me get away with,” he answered, voice a rough hush.

Bruce shook his head, kissed him again long and slow. When they separated, Bruce rested his forehead against Steve’s, a sigh puffing against Steve’s mouth. “Just this. I still need to run tests.”

Steve hummed in agreement, not planning to argue. He didn’t need sex right now even though the thought of taking Bruce into his mouth then and there made Steve squirm with want. Hidden cameras, microphones, and potentially being caught only intensified the urge.

But what he _needed_ right now was contact, to feel grounded. To be rooted in place by something so basic and honest that he didn’t have to question the reality of it. Bruce was real and the feel of his mouth against Steve, the warm living smell of him was real too.

“Can I keep you?” Steve asked when they pulled apart to breath, mouth working before his mind could warn him off. He winced, sure Bruce to shoot him down. He wasn’t sure Bruce’s laughter was a good or bad sign.

“Keep us?” Bruce stopped, scrubbed his face with the hand that wasn’t still on Steve. “You clearly can’t get rid of us.”

“Good.” Steve noticed the pronoun usage and tried not to smile. He could already tell that he was failing.

Bruce sucked in a breath before continuing. “I don’t want to get too deep into this conversation with half of S.H.I.E.L.D probably listening in but when you say keep, do you mean as your boyfriend or your Sub?”

“I meant whatever makes you most comfortable,” Steve answered honestly. He wanted a Sub but he didn’t need one. He never would have courted Peggy if he had. “I don’t want to push.”

“Good. But I sure as hell intend to if that’s okay.” Bruce paused, cutting his eyes sideways. “I don’t exactly have any positive associations with Doms and I’ll probably be the shittiest Sub ever, but I want to try.”

Steve opened his mouth then closed it before saying anything. Promising he wouldn’t be anything like those other people felt hollow even if he absolutely meant it. He didn’t need to promise. Bruce wouldn’t be putting himself out there like this if he doubted Steve.

And that was huge enough that Steve had to take a deep breath and assimilate the trust that took. To weigh if he was worthy of it, if he could prove Bruce justified in extending it to him. Steve wasn’t sure, but he wanted to be.

He nodded, gaze holding Bruce’s like something precious. “Then we’ll go slow. I’ve never had a Sub before so I guess it’ll be a learning experience for all three of us.” 

Bruce gave him a long look then shook his head. “I’m not even sure why you’d want any of this.”

“I don’t know either,” Steve admitted. He pressed a kiss to Bruce’s temple, tried to take away some of the sting of that because it wasn’t about Bruce at all. “I’ve been awake for less than a year. The forties might as well have been yesterday for me. The only reason I don’t feel guilty for how much I want to crawl inside you is because Peggy is practically gift wrapping me for you, and I still don’t know how you got under my skin so fast.”

“That makes two of us,” Bruce muttered. Steve couldn’t tell if he was aiming for levity and missed or intended to be honest all along. In the end, it didn’t really matter.

“Yeah. So we’re just doing the typical adult thing of having no damn clue what we’re actually doing.” Steve pushed back into the accidental tightening of the fingers against his neck, offering Bruce a small smile. “I’ve found out being lost by yourself is pretty shitty. Being lost together for awhile might actually be nice.”

“What do you want from us?” Bruce asked instead of agreeing, and Steve’s mind went blank. Bruce searched his expression, frowned. “I mean in general. I’m not getting into the dynamic thing here. That’s...going to be a really long conversation for later.”

It was too easy to answer Bruce’s question on automatic, to not give it the thought it deserved. Steve wanted a lot of things. They _both_ probably wanted a lot of things.

But the majority of that could wait for now.

“You,” Steve finally answered in a rasp of a voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I want you both to be you, not the faces you put on for public consumption. Just you.”

The laugh that got from Bruce was a vague huff. “That won’t be pretty,” he warned, all his sharp edges daring Steve to get close enough to cut.

Steve bit back a vicious grin. He’d already had a lifetime of petty cruelties to toughen him up. He didn’t bleed easily. “If all I wanted was pretty, I’d marry a picture.”

“This is going to be a disaster.”

“Maybe,” Steve agreed, moving in closer. “But it’ll be one hell of a beautiful mess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Heroes, I don't think they ever fully touched how damn powerful Micah's powers were because of how reliant we are on machines. That shit makes me sad because that means he was already among one of the most powerful characters in the show _as a kid_. The writers failed so hard a lot of the times though.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no excuses aside from my concept of time is really shit (a couple weeks can pass and it feels more like a couple days) and The Winter Soldier left me with the need to have everyone kiss Sam and I've literally been having trouble not writing Sam( and Bucky *coughs*) related pairings until recently.
> 
> The next chapter is already written. It just needs to be typed up and edited. Hoping to get that done so it can be posted next Friday but I've already proven unreliable with time tables so, um, sorry I suck.
> 
> Oh, and while TWS events might affect the plot a little (or a lot, kinda depends) there's no need to be suspicious of Sitwell in this fic. He's my baby. I will protect him from shitty plot twists.

"That's a pretty modern looking ghost town," Rhodey said with open disbelief. 

Steve nodded. Modern wasn't the word for it. The whole town looked _too_ new, like a carefully crafted but ultimately inauthentic movie set.

Through satellite surveillance they had caught the whole town filing out like ants searching for a new hill, not a single child or pet with them as they piled into vehicles and left. Aside from several moving trucks that had been loaded out of sight, no one had taken more than could easily be carried by hand. 

"It could have been a trap from the start," May said, arms crossed over her chest as she glared at the screen. She stood between Fury and Peggy, probably unaware of the fierce protectiveness radiating from her. "It's almost certainly one now."

Peggy and Fury shared a look. "The window dressing could have worked well enough to bore any accidental visitors into a quick exit," Peggy countered, more a statement of potential facts than a real argument. "You'd be surprised what details can be skipped as long as expectations fill in the blanks."

"Not surprised at all," Rhodey said with a sliver of a smile. "If people actually paid attention, most politicians would never get elected."

A soft chorus of agreement went up from pretty much everyone. Fury kept silent but the roll of his eye spoke volumes.

"So where exactly do the coordinates lead us?" Steve asked. 

May pressed a button and the image on the screen changed to a bird's eye view of what looked to be a bunch of storage lockers. "Smith's Stow and Go, proud supplier of moving vans and storage facilities."

"There's a skeleton of an attempt to make it seem like a legit business. Just enough that most people wouldn't bother digging further. But we aren't most people," Fury added with an annoyed frown. "Paper trail all but evaporates if you dig any further. The absolute bare minimum of an effort was made."

Bruce uttered a soft noise of understanding. "They weren't expecting to get caught. The possibility probably never even occurred to them."

"God, I hate people like that." May muttered, shooting Bruce a commiserating glance. She hadn't questioned his involvement since securing Hayes, either trusting him or--more likely--Peggy and Fury's judgment. "They're always such sanctimonious pricks."

"Sloppy too. It makes their weaknesses easier to exploit once you know 'em," Rhodey pointed out. He didn't look particularly happy about it. "So who's staying behind to watch Heckle and Jeckle?"

If that was a reference, it flew right over Steve's head. He made a mental note to look it up before a slight wave of Peggy's hand drew his attention.

"I'm willing to bow out this time around. Especially since I'll have such splendid company," she said, sounding like she meant it. She laughed at the look Steve shot her, beckoning him as she stood. "Come on, meet my backup."

It was as good a way to end that phase of the planning as any, so the whole group followed her out of the room. Steve froze as he spotted and recognized the three agents waiting nearby. 

The reaction wasn't for Sitwell, who Steve had managed to meet once or twice since the Battle of Manhattan. A good actor, capable of handling curveballs with ease, and very capable in a fight.

Sharon wasn't a surprise either. She smiled at him, open and friendly and he returned it in kind. They only really knew each other through Peggy's stories and the occasional nod in the hall, but Peggy had a way of telling tales that made them come to life right before your eyes.

No, it was the third agent who gave him a shock. He'd seen the man in files, sure, but Steve might have accidentally on purpose been avoiding him for reasons he couldn't quite name.

"Agent Triplett," Steve greeted, feeling off balance as he offered his hand.

Taking it in a strong grip, Triplett shook his head with a brilliant smile. Steve could just imagine Gabe preening about good genes. "Actually, I think it's Antoine considering everything you and Grandpa Gabe went through together."

"'Grandpa Gabe'?" Sitwell asked after letting out a low whistle. "How the hell did you keep that one from everybody, Trip?"

"A lot of hard work and deflection. You're not going to get weird on me now, are you?"

Sitwell stared at him, somehow feigning innocent while still wearing his S.H.I.E.L.D. issue blank expression. "Come on now. Do I treat Carter special?" 

"You treat me like I could break you," Sharon said with a small, satisfied smile that Sitwell answered with the beginnings of a grin. He didn't look like he doubted her in the least.

"Yeah, but that's got nothing to do with family and everything to do with you being deadly," Sitwell argued.

Steve let the chatter wash over him, smiling at the familiarity of the back and forth. "It's good to meet you, Antoine. I'm sorry it hasn't happened sooner."

"Hey, you want to hang sometime, I'm down," Antoine promised, smile blinding. He reminded Steve of Gabe, yes, but in the same way Sharon reminded him of Peggy: close enough that there was no denying the connection but still so obviously different.

"Yeah, I'd like that," Steve said, and was surprised to find he meant it.

***

When they landed in the town, the first thing that hit Steve was the sheer silence. There were still the normal night noises of animals who saw no reason to keep quiet, but aside from the low level buzz of electricity stirring through power lines, there were none of the usual sounds of human habitation. The dead stillness of the air was ominous.

They separated, Rhodey and May heading for the storage units while Steve, Bruce, and Fury fanned out to search for anything--or anyone--left behind. Tension rode Steve's body, his bunched muscles and the hard set of his jaw creating a dull ache. Occasionally, his gaze would flick in the direction Bruce had gone before he could catch himself. It was ridiculous to worry, and he wasn't. Not quite.

He remembered the way Bruce had rode into a literal war zone and looked around like it was an everyday occurrence instead of the end of life as most of the world knew it. Then Bruce had walked toward that Chitauri monster, steps and words so sure, sending a shiver down Steve's spine. 

It wasn't like working with Peggy hadn't given him plenty of practice in keeping his eyes on the mission instead of drooling. But Steve could feel the way his movements were a little too slow and tight, his reactions a fraction of a beat off, and somewhere over there was Bruce, so strangely and comfortingly certain when there was no point trying to make himself seem any less dangerous than he really was. 

The low static crackle of the comm made Steve tense, instinctively beginning to lift the shield before he made himself stop.

"I'm picking up high electrical readouts by the storage units," Rhodey said, voice calm with only a thread of wariness as Steve forced his muscles to relax. 

"Headed your way," he said. Similar messages came from Fury and Bruce as Steve pulled up a mental map of the area and veered west. He covered the ground at a loping run, the War Machine's dully gleaming form soon coming into view. May spared him a glance before turning back to glare at the huddle of storage units.

"No radio chatter," Rhodey said as Steve approached. "And all other readouts are normal. Something down there's eating energy."

May made a low, indecipherable noise as Fury joined them. The pair shared a look, silently telegraphing something with an ease that came from knowing a person for years. Steve's heart clenched as he remembered how he and B--

Steve shook the memories off. Not now, not here.

Bruce arrived last, his gaze darting around the area in a way that seemed frantic at first glance but there was something calculating in his eyes. He tilted his head, listening. Steve copied the movement without a thought and heard a faint downward shift in the current of electricity.

"Down there?" May asked, following the gestures. Steve glanced at Bruce who nodded before doing the same.

Fury scowled. "Traps?"

"Nothing I can pick up." Rhodey paused then sighed, the suit's shoulders sagging a little. "I'm not superstitious, but I'm not going to be the one to say it either."

"Too damn easy," Fury said for him. He strode forward, gait confident as though absolutely certain there was no risk of tripping anything.

Nothing nasty jumped out at them or exploded as they investigated the tightly packed storage units, all empty and too clean except for one. Steve eyed the scuff marks and dirt while he listened, then turned his gaze on the rest of the unit. Their way in was here if they could find it.

"There a can opener in that thing?" May asked, nodding towards Rhodey as she gave the floor a skeptical look.

"Believe me, Tony tried," He stepped inside with a ringing clang of metal against metal, going straight for the left wall. It was hard to tell but Rhodey seemed to be staring at one particular spot before he made a soft 'huh' sound. "Biometrics hidden behind a hologram. Tricky."

Shrugging, he blasted the spot with a repulsor beam. There was a shower of sparks followed by a rusty, metallic groaning as a section of the floor near the back slid away to reveal a set of stairs.

"But not tricky enough to get passed me."

Steve frowned as he stared down into the dark opening, anxiety making his stomach clench. He glanced up to find Fury watching him, expression blank.

"Too damn easy," Fury said again and began descending the stairs, May close behind. Shaking his head, Bruce followed, patting Steve on the arm as he passed.

Bruce had worked his way to the front of the procession by the time Steve and Rhodey entered the barely lit hall at the bottom of the stairs. Steve's enhanced eyesight could pick up the way Bruce had straightened from his usual slouch and the economy of motion as he prowled forward, head tilting slightly one way then the other then back.

Steve quickly surveyed the area, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. Sturdy doors dotted either side of the empty hall, all closed. A dull red light came from each of the nearby security panels, a silent demand for whatever swipe card was authorized to allow access. Aside from the noises the small group made as they moved, not a single sound of life reached Steve's ears.

When the hall forked, Bruce turned right without hesitating. May glanced over at Rhodey before following, his nod apparently assurance enough. Steve, like Bruce, followed the drone of electricity but warily eyed the other direction. Stale scents suggested it was well used but empty. 

"Think something's down there?" Rhodey asked him, quiet. His voice still echoed through the empty hall.

Steve shook his head. "Probably not now. Not unless we're lucky enough for them to have been careless."

_I don't like having our backs exposed_ , was left unsaid but Steve suspected Rhodey heard it anyway. Rhodey shifted behind him, taking up most of the narrow hall and making himself the most likely target for a rear assault.

They continued on in silence, only the sound of electricity to accompany them until a faint rhythmic beating began to nudge at Steve's awareness. For a quick, horrible second, he thought 'bomb' then realized the beat was wrong. Wrong but familiar.

"Is that a heart monitor?" he asked, mostly directing it at Bruce. He got a nod in response and a soft, considering hum.

"And a respirator."

"So they what? Just left someone here?" Rhodey asked, tone incredulous.

No one voiced what Steve was sure they were all thinking. That it wasn't just _someone_. 

They kept moving, still meeting no signs of resistance or sabotage. Anxiety sang through them high and thready to the tune of the almost sinister thump and hiss that was steadily growing louder. 

The trail ended at a door that looked exactly like the others. The green light on the panel indicated it was already unlocked.

"Agent Coulson," Bruce confirmed and Steve seconded it. The scent filtering through the cracks was fresh beneath the sterile reek of hospital and the heavy deadness of stale air. Coulson was alive in there, they just had to make sure he made it out that way.

He was awake, wide shocked eyes watching the small group as they entered. He reached for Fury and May the second they were inside, trying to sit up but slumping back on the bed with a low groan muffled by the oxygen mask. The pair approached him slowly as they looked for anything they might accidentally trigger. Finding nothing they could identify, they took Coulson's hands in their own, Fury taking his left and May his right.

"Before you consider getting mushy on me," Fury said to him, emotions edging his tone toward sentimental, "you might want to know that I fucked up your cards to get Cap and Stark to act right. I'll get you new ones, but I figure you'll want to kill me before anything else."

Coulson shot him a reasonably good glare for a man laid up. It lasted all of beat before he weakly tugged Fury down into an awkward hug.

Bruce let out an uncomfortable cough. "I'll go check the rest of the building," he softly announced then left the room in a sedate sort of scramble with Rhodey close behind.

"I'll, uh, radio for evac," Steve said and carefully backed out of the room, senses reeling.

He hunched over in the empty hall, throat clogged with emotion as the sounds of the medical equipment bled out and the din of an active base came rushing in. The smack of booted feet on a hard floor, the deafening cacophony of machinery, the frantic too-loud thump of his own heart. Bucky reciting his name, rank, and serial number over and over like they were the only things he knew.

It wasn't a flashback, not exactly. Just a memory that was too forceful for its own good. And now wasn't the time to give in to it, especially not if there was a chance they were under surveillance. 

Steve swallowed around the lump making it hard for him to breathe, forced it down as he pieced himself back together. Now wasn't the time to be Steve Rogers, fractured, lost, and so very human.

Steadying himself, Steve switched comm channels and called it in, thankful they weren't down deep enough for the signal to be cut off. Bringing in more S.H.I.E.L.D. agents was a risk, but Hill had handpicked them herself, and it was clear they couldn't move Coulson without help.

Bruce and Rhodey came back about twenty minutes later. Bruce carefully avoided looking inside as he reported they hadn't found anything else of note. He wandered off a short distance after that, staying within line of sight and his expanded earshot but away from the cocktail of scents wafting from the trio inside.

"I get it," Rhodey said after flipping his faceplate up and awkwardly leaning against the wall next to Steve. "It was overwhelming enough experiencing it. Watching someone else go through it and remembering what it was like is a lot to deal with."

Steve warily looked around then made himself stop. Rhodey wouldn't risk this conversation if he hadn't already checked the area for cameras or bugs.

Steve opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it. "I don't want to jinx this."

"I don't think you can," was the quiet response. Rhodey turned his head to watch Bruce stare further down the hall. If Steve stretched his hearing, he could just make out the dull thud of approaching footsteps. "I don't know why they took him and I sure as hell don't know why they left him, but it wasn't because they had a change of heart."

People began pouring in at that moment. Steve instinctively braced for a fight, eyes flicking to Bruce as a gauge. Bruce's shoulders were hunched and he nervously sidestepped out of the way as the newcomers passed, careful not to make eye contact. He was meek, unassuming Dr. Banner again, an act Steve hadn't seen in so long that he had actually forgotten what the full effect was like.

To say he hated it would be an understatement.

Steve allowed the agents and the white coated medics to pass, the latter making a beeline for Coulson. He let the medical terms wash over him, recognizing a couple that had been around since he was a kid. While Coulson's condition didn't sound great, he could have been a hell of a lot worse.

Much later, as they watched him be rolled into the back of a vehicle, Rhodey made a soft frustrated noise. "Something's still going on here. I'm just hoping we figure it out before someone else gets hurt."

Steve scrubbed at his face, intending to respond but exhaustion was hitting him now that there wasn't a clear plan of attack laid out in front of him. He must have zoned out, because the next thing he knew, Bruce's scent was invading his space and hands were removing his helmet.

"You had a pretty scary thousand yard stare going on there," Bruce said, the pads of his fingers briefly brushing over Steve's eyelashes.

"You're not supposed to sneak up on a soldier."

"Oh, I know. I've spent more time around soldiers than you think." There was a story tucked into the slight curve of Bruce's smile, something unpleasant. "You're _supposed_ to make your presence known, and you knew before I was in arm's length." Bruce tapped the side of his nose. "Want to talk about it?"

Sighing, Steve took note of his surroundings. Coulson had already been taken away, Fury and May probably going with him and the medical team. Rhodey had shed the suit and was waiting by a vehicle some distance away, in no apparent hurry to force Steve and Bruce into action. The half lit street where he and Bruce stood was otherwise empty.

"Hayes and Lincoln will probably end up dead if they're put back in the Fridge, and they're too dangerous for a regular prison, so neither is a viable option. I don't like it," Steve admitted, hands smoothing over Bruce's forearms. "I don't like letting them off the hook because we don't have much choice. I don't like how it makes me feel unsafe. But it's what we have to do."

"Good guy code?"

"Practicality," Steve corrected with a frown and a shake of his head. "Depending on what Coulson can tell us, those two are still the best leads we have, and I'm not comfortable with the other methods that can be used to make them talk."

"Well, torture isn't exactly reliable," Bruce agreed with exaggerated innocence. He shrugged at the sharp look Steve gave him, completely unrepentant. "What she did to you was torture and he was in on it. I'm not going to cry if they get a little of that back."

"An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind," Steve said without much conviction. It seemed like someone should say it, even if the darker parts of Steve wanted to agree with Bruce.

"And turning the other cheek might have originally been psychological warfare."

Steve shook his head again. "We bed them down safe, allow Hayes' own need for revenge to get us the information we want." He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Make them assets if we have to."

Bruce gave him a long look before speaking. "Fury tell you that?"

"He hasn't approached me about it yet. I'm talking about what _I'd_ do." And that stung like hell, knowing he could be nudged towards the darker side of morally gray. That it would hopefully save lives didn't make him question himself any less. "There's more at stake here than my mental health."

"Yeah," Bruce said after a pause. "Yeah, there is. But right now your mental health is my first priority. So, let's find somewhere safe to build one of your nests--excuse me, _blanket forts_ \--and put everything else on the back burner for now."

Huffing out a suspiciously wet laugh, Steve didn't resist as Bruce took his hand and led him to the car.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never decide to rewrite a chapter from scratch at the last minute. Except do if it actually helps the flow of the story, I guess, which this really does while also properly introducing you to one of the reasons it took me so long to update this fic after TWS. Helloooo, Sam, you attention devouring wonder you.

Between Steve's apartment being compromised and Bruce being more or less homeless, 'somewhere safe' meant going right back to Peggy's home. She received them like it was a forgone conclusion and didn't bat an eye when they bedded down in the same room. She laughed at how guilty Steve looked the next morning and asked if he really thought she didn't know what amorous young men got up to when left to their own devices. All they had done was kiss--lovely, slow kisses that seemed to go on forever--but Steve still blushed so hard he thought he might combust.

Being around both Peggy and Bruce was soothing, but Steve couldn't shake the need for his dog tags, hand occasionally straying to them when the anxiety or nightmares got bad enough. He tried to be subtle about it when he was aware enough of his actions to control them. Sometimes, he would catch himself before he completed the motion and did his best to turn it into something else. A scratch, a gesture, something simple and unburdened. 

Peggy saw, because she wasn't the type you could slip things passed, but she didn't ask. Not yet. She knew Steve too well to think she could pull truths from him before he was ready, and she'd probably already guessed why he fixated on the dog tags of all things. 

Bruce noticed the aborted motions more than anything, the silent attempts to deny that Steve was troubled, and didn't comment because he wouldn't want Steve asking about his own coping mechanisms. But he was there for the nightmares too, offered touch and soft assurances of safety. He gripped too tight sometimes, fingers leaving bruises that would fade in seconds, like he knew it would help ground Steve in this body that he still couldn't always recognize as his own.

Steve returned the favor as best as he could. When Bruce flinched from some dream assailant, teeth clenched around any noise as though afraid of being heard, Steve tried to gently guide him back to the waking world. Sometimes it worked, and twice Bruce's eyes had been bright green when they opened and it had been Hulk who answered.

And since Hulk didn't lie--mislead, yes but not outright lie--he told Steve exactly what he'd dreamed of. Being caged, experimented on, always afraid for himself and Bruce but never of himself.

It was a comfort, really, knowing at least someone in this relationship felt comfortable in his own skin.

***

They had been at Peggy's home for a little over a week when the call came in. Moments before, she and Steve had been in the living room talking while Bruce was fixing a leak in the kitchen sink with the ease of a seasoned plumber.

Steve watched as she listened to the flow of words, not meaning to eavesdrop but she was too close for him not to hear the voice on the other end of the phone. 

Fury, sounding grim and wanting all three of them to come in for an update on Coulson's condition. He mentioned, as though knowing Steve could hear, that Natasha and Clint were home safe and would be there too. Steve hadn't needed the extra incentive and felt a little guilty at the surge of relief that filled him in the face of what he heavily suspected would be bad news.

Peggy took her car and Bruce rode with Steve on his motorcycle after giving it a long dubious look. His arms wrapped around Steve's waist, face buried in between his shoulders. His grip tightened as the motorcycle roared to life, but he smelled excited rather than scared, shifting closer when Steve's fingers brushed over his knuckles. Steve thought he felt the curve of a smile pressed against his back, and wondered if it Bruce's or Hulk's or both.

There was a doctor waiting for them when they arrived at the S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility. He introduced himself as Dr. Streiten before leading them through the building. Steve tried not to let the scents get to him, but they still dredged up the memories of too many hospital stays, his mother and Bucky's worried faces, the pitying looks of staff who were certain that this time pure stubbornness wouldn't see him through. It only contributed to the wariness he felt as he watched doctors and nurses they passed, unsure whose side any of them might really be on.

Their destination was an observation room of sorts, furnished with about a half dozen vaguely comfortable chairs and a middling sized table. A large window in the back wall gave them a view into a private in-patient room crowded with machines. Inside, a small swarm of medical staff were buzzing around Coulson's bed, their quiet murmuring and steps doing nothing to wake the pale, sleeping man. 

Steve frowned as he eyed the machines. He recognized the heart monitor and Coulson seemed to be breathing well enough on his own to forego a respirator. The remaining equipment looked a lot less medical and a lot more Bruce's area.

Turning away from that puzzle, he glanced at the people who had been present when they arrived. Fury was standing at the window, expression blank and back ramrod straight as he watched the proceedings. To one side of him was May, jaw clenched and murder in her eyes. They were holding hands, their bodies so close the tight lacing of their fingers was almost hidden.

To Fury's other side was Pepper Potts with undisguised worry on her face. Rhodey and, surprisingly, Tony were in a far corner, heads close together as they frowned down at a tablet, occasionally mumbling to each other. Natasha, Clint, and a man Steve didn't recognize were huddled together like tired puppies, bruised and exhausted but aware enough to meet Steve's gaze.

"I expect a hug," Natasha said as she waved him over, tone joking while her eyes said she meant it. Steve obediently went to her, noticing the strange man leaning away with a smile, but Clint remained resolutely pasted to Natasha's side. Steve hugged them both, careful of their injuries and so relieved they weren't in worse condition.

"Sam Wilson," the stranger introduced himself when Steve pulled back and turned to him. As tired as he sounded, Sam's grip as they shook hands was firm and strong.

"He's an angel," Clint said, only half in jest. He smirked at Sam's embarrassed laugh and the instinctive denial that followed it. 

"No, I'm not, man."

"He is," Natasha insisted in a conspiratorial whisper. "He even has wings."

"They're metal," Sam said with a soft groan. He covered his face with one hand, only partially hiding his smile. "It's a jetpack with wings. That doesn't make me an angel."

"Maybe," Clint said very slowly, his tone saying it was anything but agreement. "But that metal-armed assassin who spent a week trying to murder you and Nat sure seemed to think you were. Remember, I know enough Russian to translate what he was saying to those meatheads he was ordering around."

Steve made a low noise of confusion, noticing the way Natasha's eyes went dark at the mention of the assassin. There was something haunted there, maybe even a little scared. And she was letting them see it.

She opened her mouth, and Steve moved in closer, suspecting she was about to say something she didn't want broadcasted to the whole room. She stopped before making a sound, eyes narrowing then shifting to where Bruce had taken up station near Tony and Rhodey. 

"I know you can hear, Bruce," she said and crooked her finger at him when he looked her way. 

He came without fuss, a vague sort of smile on his face. "I wasn't actually trying to listen."

Natasha nodded, no accusation on her face. She gestured again and Bruce obediently moved closer, nearly pressing him against Clint who took the opportunity to drag him into a hug. Bruce tensed at first, then relaxed against him.

"He's called the Winter Soldier. He was one of my trainers in the Red Room," Natasha said, very quietly. Steve glanced at Clint and Sam but the information didn't seem new to either of them. "They always talked about him like a thing. Like me. I've never seen his face uncovered, never heard a real name. I'm not even sure how old he is, but it doesn't seem like he's aged. And he didn't recognize me. Not this time and ... not the last time either."

"Last time," Steve asked, searching Natasha's face.

She looked away, frowning before meeting his gaze. "I was on a mission--for S.H.I.E.L.D., not ...them--he shot right through me to kill the man I was protecting. Not sure he even registered my existence beyond being in his way."

"Maybe he _did_ recognize you," Bruce suggested, though he didn't sound particularly confident. "Maybe that's why he didn't kill you too."

"No, I just wasn't the target," Natasha said, completely certain. Gaze sliding towards Sam, her mouth curved into a sly smirk. "Good thing I had Sam to distract him this time around."

"It wasn't even like that! He was just mad I kicked him in the head during the first fight."

Clint scoffed. "Which explains why he kept calling you Angel and hesitated to take out your wings. Grounding you should have been one of the first things he did."

Sam shrugged, the frown on his face saying he didn't have anything to argue against that.

"What's the likelihood of him showing up on our doorstep?" Fury asked from his place by the window even though he couldn't have possibly heard all that. Laying in wait then, judging their body language to see when the best time to address this new threat to the group at large.

Pepper startled. Peggy, Rhodey, and Tony looked up, curious. May didn't react at all.

"Who?" Peggy asked, eyes lighting up at the possibility of a fight.

"The Winter Soldier," Natasha answered.

Steve glanced between the two women, trying to get a sense of if they knew each other. He didn't think so, suspected they knew _of_ one another but nothing more. Recognition bloomed on Peggy's face at the mention of the assassin, though, something tense and pained.

"Ah yes, we've had dealings with him before. That metal arm of his made Howard positively giddy to discover its secrets," Peggy said with a fond shake of her head. "But he surely can't be the same man. He would be nearly as old as I am."

"That'd be a lot of trouble to go through just to a keep up a legend few people have heard of," Fury pointed out. "Either way, is he going to be an immediate problem?"

"He was still coming for us after Clint shot him full of holes," Sam said, eyes going wide at the memory.

"Nevermind, that's the same bastard," Peggy grumbled then gestured that she was through interrupting.

Clint offered her a small smile before turning back to Fury. "Honestly, Sir, from a semi-outside perspective, I couldn't tell what was going through his head. I'm not sure if he was trying to kill them or capture them, and I definitely don't know if either was his main objective. If they just interrupted something, he probably won't be back but if they were the whole reason he was there, we'll be seeing him again eventually."

"Not that this isn't interesting," Tony butted in, ignoring Rhodey and Pepper's disapproving looks. "Because it really is. Also a teensy bit terrifying beyond all reason if Our Lady of Deadly Honeypots is worried." He waved towards Natasha, shrugging when she gave him the finger. "But when are we going to get to the army of nanobots living in Coulson's body?"

Silence fell over the room, thick and tense. Steve glanced around and found that only he, Bruce, and Peggy showed any signs of surprise at the announcement. It was clearly old news to most of the group, their reactions ranging from Pepper's open worry to almost everyone else's stony acceptance. Sam was the odd man out, clearly unsure he should be present for any of this conversation. Natasha and Clint had death grips on his arms though, and after everything they had recounted, Steve wasn't sure it was to take support from him so much as to protect him from unstoppable, ageless assassins.

"Okay, someone's going to have to explain this to me," Steve said very slowly as he tried to work his brain around the information Tony had dropped on them.

"Nanobots are--"

"He knows what they are, Tony," Rhodey interrupted, answering Steve's nod of thanks with smile. "The doctors discovered them after taking a blood sample."

"Because accidentally removing a few dozen is apparently fine, but trying to turn off one--even one that isn't in his body--causes Phil to have a grande mal," Pepper said. She spat the words out like they were toxic, mouth thinning in anger. She seemed to transform before Steve's eyes, turning from concerned friend to the force of nature the business world rightfully feared.

"Yeah, we didn't try that a second time." Rhodey scowled, fingers idly tapping against the side of the tablet. "Right now we're just trying to get at their code to figure out their purpose without triggering another seizure."

Tony pulled a second tablet out of his briefcase and waved it at Bruce, luring him back to their side. Bruce took it without a word, brow knit as he swiped his way through the information on the display. "Clearly not medical," he muttered to himself, eyes still on the screen. "No abnormal findings beyond ... well."

"Beyond him not being dead?" Fury supplied with a touch of black humor that drained from him almost immediately. "There's too many possibilities to make a reasonable guess. We need more info."

"And we need to make sure he--and anyone his condition can compromise--can't gain high level access," May added, glancing at Fury with a soft look that had him slowly nodding.

"Exactly. Until this is cleared up Hill remains Director. Agent Victoria Hand will be her second in command." Fury mustered an amused smirk. "I don't think you've met her yet, Cap. Your reputation's not enough to keep her from seeing straight through your shit."

Steve had heard about Hand, actually, in passing. The general consensus seemed to be that she was an excellent agent, terrifying and prone to bluntness, especially when she thought someone was being foolish. Agent Garrett--who Steve had met only once and even that had been one time too many--had referred to her as a ball-busting hardass. 

Steve suspected he and Hand were probably destined to butt heads on multiple occasions, but he liked her already.

"Looking forward to it, Sir."

Fury nodded then turned back to watch the doctors work, putting an end to the conversation. Bruce, Rhodey, and Tony returned full focus to their respective tablets, and Peggy walked over to introduce herself to Pepper.

"Guessing the apartment's too compromised to stay there," Clint said, drawing Steve's attention back to him.

Steve accompanied his soft 'yeah' with an apologetic smile. "At Peggy's for now. Not sure what I'll do after."

Natasha and Clint stared at him, open and frank, their eyes saying they knew Steve had already gone over his options a thousand times. Stay at Peggy's, feeling like he was taking advantage of her kindness even though he damn well knew that wasn't how she'd see it. Allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to find him a new place which was practically inviting the moles to harass him again. Find someplace himself and have it bugged the second he left. Or ...

Or finally giving in to Tony's not so subtle attempts to install him into that big, ugly tower. It was crawling with people but despite the heavy foot traffic, it was probably far more secure than anywhere else Steve ended up, Peggy's home included. J.A.R.V.I.S.'s control of the building could come in very handy if someone tried to attack them, so long as J.A.R.V.I.S. didn't get hacked or shutdown during the process.

Steve glanced over at Bruce, watching for a moment as he frowned down at his tablet. As if sensing eyes on him, Bruce looked up.

He would be heading to the Tower soon enough. Like he'd said the day he told Steve he would be leaving, it _was_ the safest place for him with General Ross making a nuisance of himself. It was also the best environment for solving the riddle of Coulson's robot infestation and, on a more personal note, whether sex with Bruce would ever be on the table.

Steve had said he'd go if Bruce did and he'd meant it. He wasn't sure what Dr. Albaf would say about that, no doubt a perfectly accurate comment about how codependent they were becoming. Hulk would laugh. Hulk ... didn't care, and if there was anything the last few weeks had taught him, it was that he had been moving from one form of codependency to another his entire life. 

It probably wasn't at all healthy, but he'd leave that for Dr. Albaf to tell him in their next session. _After_ they proved she hadn't been compromised too.

Natasha was smiling at Steve when he turned back, smug and knowing. "We'll be sure to send you a housewarming gift when you move in. Something more subtle than whatever Stark gives you for letting him win."

"You're just too good to me," Steve said in an exaggerated coo just to get a chuckle out of the three weary agents. "You guys look beat. Come on, let's see if we can scare up something vaguely bed-like for you." 

The smiles that earned him from Clint and Natasha were warm with gratitude and affection. Sam glanced between the two then shrugged, easily accepting that there was more behind the gesture than what he wasn't privy to. Steve thought he might tell Sam later about how it had always been the other way around, them guarding Steve's sleep, and now he would get to return the favor. That could wait, though, until after he ensured these three got their much needed rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I actually need to warn that sex things with Hulk is probably coming? (Is this a spoiler? Was there ever really any doubt that Steve was going to be able to have sex with Bruce eventually?) I feel like I've warned throughout the story that it's something that'll probably happen but just ... do I need to warn before any chapter it happens in for those who want to keep reading but not those parts? I think the reaction to that is the thing I've been most anxious about with this story.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Protect You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2258541) by [LePeru (Nizah)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nizah/pseuds/LePeru)




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